THE 

PERTINENT 
WAGNERITE 

B.  M.  STEIGMAN 


to/t 


\o 


OtA 


THE 
PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 


BY 

B.  M.  STEIGMAN 


NEW  YORK 

THOMAS  SELTZER 

1921 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
THOMAS  SELTZER,  INC. 


All  rights  reserved 


PRINTED   IN    THH    UNITED    STATES    OF   AMBBICA 


Music 
Library 

ML- 


h// 


To  OTTO  H.  KAHN,  ESQ.  : 

An  address  to  you  here  may  seem  a  reversion  to 
the  prefatory  type  of  two  hundred  years  ago,  that 
prudently  made  obeisance  to  its  noble  lord  with  full 
many  a  scraping  superlative.  Your  benefactions  in 
behalf  of  American  art,  in  truth,  have  been  such  as 
to  make  the  courtly  tribute  seem  hardly  an  anachron- 
ism. It  is  the  more  gladly  rendered  since  there  is 
no  real  occasion  at  the  same  time  for  preclusive  pro- 
test against  an  eighteenth  century  interpretation  of 
the  motive.  For  one  thing,  even  those  who  do  not 
know  the  extent  of  your  patronage  of  artistic  enter- 
prise, are  aware  of  your  insistence  upon  anonymity. 
And  those  who  by  chance  have  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
range  of  this  patronage,  realize  how  slight  must  be 
the  possible  tribute  to  it  —  were  such  attempted  — 
of  an  occasional  dedication  like  mine.  This  every 
one  knows :  that  the  democratic  principles  you  have 
expressed  are  certainly  two  hundred  years  beyond 
the  age  of  Halifax  and  Chesterfield;  and  that  any 
attempted  restoration,  be  it  merely  literary,  of  the 
encumbrance  of  ruffle  and  silken  stocking,  would 
meet  with  a  doubtful  reception. 

The  more  cause  have  I  to  hope  that  the  imper- 
sonal protest  of  these  essays  will  be  given  such  con- 
sideration by  you  as  the  theme  merits.  For  the  in- 


debtedness  of  music  and  drama  in  America  to  you 
- — here,  properly,  might  be  doffed  the  plumed  hat 
and  bent  the  silver-buckled  leg  —  is  not  only  for  the 
extension  of  their  scope,  but,  even  more,  for  their 
elevation  to  sometimes  proud  aesthetic  levels.  It 
seems  unlikely  that  an  appeal  against  the  recent 
degradation  of  these  two  arts,  united  in  the  music 
drama,  will  be  disregarded  by  you. 

It  is  possible  to  attribute  to  our  singleness  of  pur- 
pose during  the  war  our  unreasonable  aversion  for 
German  opera.  The  result  was  a  great  artistic 
wrong  committed  by  way  of  retaliation  against  no 
matter  how  infinitely  greater  an  international 
wrong.  The  attack  upon  Wagner  was  certainly  an 
unevenhanded  attempt  at  justice  for  the  attack  upon 
Belgium.  It  seemed  more  an  unflattering  revela- 
tion of  our  real  regard  for  the  master.  The  post- 
war acceptance  of  the  music  dramas  in  English  is  a 
corroboration :  for  the  banishment  of  Wagner's  orig- 
inal text  can  hardly  be  considered  a  Versailles  visi- 
tation ;  and  must  be  wholly  attributed  to  our  blurred 
understanding. 

Surely  there  is  nothing  really  extenuating  in  our 
patriotic  protestations  that  it  was  not  that  we  loved 
Wagner  less,  but  that  we  loved  America  more.  The 
inevitable  conclusion  must  then  be  that  our  love 
blinded  us  to  the  beauty  of  one  and  to  the  ideals  of 
the  other. 

The  sedative  years  are  happily  restoring  our 
vision.  The  concession  made  is  now  general  that 
the  best  music  drama  ever  written  belongs  not  to 
the  Germans  alone,  but  is  the  heritage  of  all  man- 


kind.  It  is  by  no  means  the  least  of  the  distinctions 
of  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  under  your  guid- 
ance that  it  was  the  first  to  recognize  this. 

In  addressing  this  little  book,  therefore,  to  the 
Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the  world's 
greatest  opera  house  (who  by  virtue  of  this  office 
is  the  chief  administrator  of  Wagner's  bequest  to 
humanity)  I  am  confident  that  its  plea  for  a  com- 
plete restoration  of  our  heritage  —  the  original 
poetry  of  it  no  less  than  the  music  —  will  be  heard. 
And  in  addressing  you  personally,  Mr.  Kahn,  I  ven- 
ture to  secure  as  advocate  for  this  plea  one  of  the 
foremost  of  America's  connoisseurs. 
Yours  truly, 

B.  M.  STEIGMAN. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

1.  THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE    .     .     .     .     .     .     n 

A  guide  for  sensitive  Americans,  who  may  here- 
after enjoy  the  dramas  without  patriotic  uneasi- 
ness, when  they  discover  that  the  Ring  Cycle  is 
Wagner's  prophetic  account  of  the  world  war  and 
international  politics  of  to-day. 

2.  "  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 41 

In  which  is  presented  the  bombardment  of  the 
dramas  by  stout  defenders  against  an  invasion  of 
Teutonic  clefs  and  staves.  The  shell  torn  ruins 
are  exhibited. 

3.  "  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 61 

In  which  are  shown  the  charred  remains  of 
thirteen  translators  of  Tristan  und  Isolde,  as 
warning  to  future  perpetrators. 

4.  PARSIFOLLIES 85 

Including  some  recently  committed  parsifalla- 
cies. 

5.  THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK     .     .      .    107 

In  which  the  Mayor  of  New  York,  as  befits  the 
chief  magistrate  of  the  most  musical  of  cities,  con- 
ducts an  inquiry  into  the  popular  outbreak  against 
an  opera  company's  criminal  abuse  of  tempo  ru- 
bato  in  Die  Meister singer. 


Thanks  are  due  to  the  editor  of  The  Musical  Quarterly 
for  permission  to  republish  part  of  the  essay  "  Nicht  Mehr 
Tristan." 


A  GUIDE  FOR  SENSITIVE  AMERICANS,  WHO  MAY  HERE- 
AFTER ENJOY  THE  DRAMAS  WITHOUT  PATRIOTIC 
UNEASINESS,  WHEN  THEY  DISCOVER  THAT 
THE   RING    CYCLE    IS    WAGNER'S    PRO- 
PHETIC ACCOUNT  OF  THE  WORLD 
WAR   AND   INTERNATIONAL 
POLITICS  TO-DAY 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

IN  the  spring  of  1917  the  call  for  a  marshaling  of 
all  our  forces  —  including  the  artistic  —  against 
the  enemy,  brought  forth  a  response  so  overwhelm- 
ing in  its  enthusiasm  as  to  sweep  all  activities  Teu- 
tonic before  it.  In  the  main,  of  course,  the  military, 
but  including,  also,  the  artistic. 

As  a  result  two  opera  seasons  —  in  a  sense  per- 
haps three  —  were  conducted  without  the  perform- 
ance of  a  single  Wagnerian  music  drama.  In  spite 
of  the  protests  from  many  leading  music  critics,  who 
in  scornful  newspaper  and  magazine  columns  pointed 
out  the  absurdity  of  debarring  from  the  stage  the 
work  of  one  of  the  most  anti-Prussian  of  men,  the 
policy  of  depriving  our  enemy  of  a  decidedly  cool 
comfort  was  carried  out.  Had  Wagner  when  he 
made  his  escape  from  Dresden  in  1849  come  to 
America,  as  did  so  many  other  rebels  against  po- 
litical autocracy  that  year,  his  spirit's  choice  as  to 
the  righteous  side  of  the  barbed  wire  entanglements 
in  Europe  would  not  have  caused  us  the  slightest  un- 
easiness. 

But  man  or  spirit  may  be  dismissed  as  of  lesser 
importance.  To  the  censor  certainly  the  play  should 
have  been  the  thing.  Yet  it  is  evident  that  he  en- 
tirely overlooked  the  patriotic  service  he  could  have 

13 


performed  in  urging  the  production  of  the  Ring  of 
the  Nibelungs  during  the  period  of  the  war.  His 
forbearance,  it  might  be  objected,  would  have  been 
strained  by  the  hateful  language  itself.  But  even 
the  use  of  the  enemy's  tongue  might  really  be  con- 
sidered an  advantage :  for,  the  dramas  being  a  re- 
markable arraignment  against  the  former  German 
empire,  the  sport  would  have  been  all  the  greater 
for  having  the  engineering  kaiserliche  hoist  with 
their  own  festspiel  petar. 

And  the  remarkable  arraignment?  It  would  soon 
be  apparent  to  the  novice  who  has  no  established 
Shavian  theories  based  on  the  political  revolution  of 
1848  to  contend  with.  The  perfect  Wagnerite,  too, 
after  a  reconsideration  of  the  dramas  in  the  new 
light,  might  be  induced  to  modify  and  enlarge  his 
interpretation.  For  Wagner's  prophetic  presenta- 
tion of  the  international  affairs  of  to-day  is  of  un- 
canny accuracy. 

Let  the  skeptical  wag  be  dismissed  before  the  cur- 
tain rises  on  the  patriotic  spectacle.  His  references, 
tongue  in  cheek,  to  the  Hun's  atrocities  as  exempli- 
fied by  the  spurlos  disappearance  of  Lohengrin's 
swan  or  by  Parsifal's  initial  anti-aircraft  perform- 
ance or  by  the  abduction  of  Isolde  after  her  kind 
Red-Cross  nursing  of  the  enemy,  are  not  at  all  con- 
ducive to  the  proper  seriousness  of  the  subject.  An 
attitude  not  too  remote  from  the  hushed  venera- 
tion of  the  true  disciple  at  the  mention  of  the  Ring 
must  be  insisted  upon. 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

DAS  RHEINGOLD 

Three  mermaids  glide  nimbly  through  deep,  flow- 
ing waters,  the  very  personifications  of  the  absolute 
freedom  of  the  seas.  In  their  care  has  been  en- 
trusted a  golden  treasure,  whose  glow  enriches  the 
whole  world.  But  the  mermaids  seem  not  in  the 
least  impressed  with  their  enormous  responsibility, 
to  judge  by  their  joyous  pranks  and  songs.  One  of 
them  does  indeed  remind  the  others  of  a  warning 
from  somebody  that  they  be  prepared  for  possible 
attacks.  But  they  pay  little  heed  to  the  warning; 
for  who  would  care  to  rob  them  of  their  freedom 
of  the  seas  and  the  world  of  its  peaceful  prosperity, 
knowing  the  frightful  penalty  imposed  on  the  crim- 
inal, viz.,  that  he  must  renounce  all  human  love  and 
be  willing  to  barter  his  divine  image  for  the  beast's 
maw?  None  such  exists  in  the  twentieth  century, 
their  tra-la-la  means  to  imply. 

But  up  from  the  depths  of  the  waters  climbs  a 
swarthy,  lame-limbed  fellow.  There  is  no  mistak- 
ing his  mustachios  and  his  manly  Prussian  growls  to 
have  the  mermaids  minister  to  his  wants:  it  is  evi- 
dently Wilhelm  Alberich  himself.  "  Oh,  indeed," 
he  cries,  blinking  at  the  gold  and  attentive  to  the 
mermaids'  chatter,  "  getting  possession  of  that  and 
thereby  ruling  the  whole  world  requires  nothing  but 
a  renunciation,  nothing  but  the  breaking  of  a  paltry 
agreement  among  men !  Very  well."  And  before 
the  startled  mermaids  realize  what  he  is  up  to,  he 
has  launched  an  under-sea  attack  upon  their  treas- 

15 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

ure.  In  despair,  the  maids  can  only  send  out  agon- 
ized calls  for  help. —  This  is  the  opening  scene  of 
Das  Rhelngold. 

The  second  scene  presents  characters  rather  dif- 
ferent from  this  monster.  Lord  Wotan,  a  digni- 
fied old  gentleman  (probably  a  descendant  of  some 
ancient  member  of  the  Witenagemot),  and  Lady 
Fricka,  his  consort,  are  introduced  on  a  not  unusual 
occasion  of  domestic  infelicity.  The  Lord,  it  ap- 
pears, is  so  absorbed  in  all  sorts  of  business  mat- 
ters (Vertrage)  that  he  has  altogether  slighted  the 
women  folks  at  home.  Wherefore  the  lady  ex- 
presses her  mind  rather  frankly,  and  insists  upon 
his  attention  to  domestic  reforms.  Wagner  shows 
here  admirable  artistic  restraint:  for,  though  not  a 
word  is  actually  said  about  suffrage,  the  implica- 
tion is  unmistakable. 

Lady  Fricka's  violence  in  presenting  her  demands 
is  limited  for  the  sake  of  the  decorum  essential  to 
the  operatic  stage  to  mere  contralto  outbursts  and 
tragically  clenched  fists.  But  her  words  are  cutting: 
she  even  goes  so  far  as  to  accuse  the  Lord  of  setting 
his  ambition  and  greed  above  the  raptures  of  love. 
Now,  that  is  entirely  wrong  of  her,  for  the  Lord 
is  in  this  respect  the  very  opposite  of  the  monster 
Wilhelm  Alberich.  To  Wotan  the  renunciation  of 
love  is  an  impossibility.  Wagner's  serious  purpose 
must  make  quite  acceptable  the  otherwise  dubious 
propriety  of  the  Lord's  promiscuous  attentions  to 
women  wherever  he  went:  it  was,  first,  to  indicate 
the  importance  of  love  in  the  man's  life;  and,  sec- 

16 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

ondly,  to  represent  figuratively  his  fertility  in  colon- 
ization throughout  the  world. 

As  the  scene  progresses  another  striking  attribute 
of  Lord  Wotan's  becomes  apparent.  The  spear  he 
carries  is  evidently  not  meant  for  warlike  purposes 
only.  On  the  haft  are  carved  laws  and  treaties; 
and  these  he  most  respectfully  carries  out.  When, 
for  example,  the  two  lumbering  giants  from  the 
neighboring  island  come  in  and  demand  their  rights, 
Lord  Wotan,  for  reasons  best  known  to  him  pre- 
sumably, is  disposed  to  ignore  them.  But  the  two 
petitioners  know  that  the  Lord  has  no  autocratic 
powers,  that  his  whole  existence  is  founded  upon 
law  and  order  as  determined  by  an  invisible  consti- 
tutional force.  "  Hor'  und  hiite  dich,"  they  cry  in 
a  thick  brogue,  "  Vertragen  halte  treu' !  "  If  the 
burly  fellows  (whose  names  are  something  like  Fa- 
south  and  Faf north)  could  only  agree  upon  precisely 
what  they  really  want,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
Lord  would  have  to  yield.  But  Fafnorth  is  evi- 
dently at  one  with  Lord  Wotan  himself  in  the  de- 
sire for  material  possessions,  whereas  Fasouth,  the 
fair-haired  and  blue-eyed,  seems  afflicted  with  a 
Celtic  temperament  to  judge  by  his  rhapsodical  devo- 
tion to  Freia.  He  stamps  an  ardent,  if  somewhat 
ungainly  foot,  and  insists:  "  Kein  andrer:  Freia 
allein!  "  His  persistence  arouses  in  the  Lord's  im- 
mense bodyguard  an  eager  desire  to  take  to  arms. 
But  here  the  Lord's  inexorably  binding  law  inter- 
poses: "  Nichts  durch  Gewalt!  " 

Recent  activities  of  the  bodyguard  point  to  Wag- 


ner's  exposition  of  Lord  Wotan's  restraint  as  some- 
what idealized.  The  actual  British  stage  has  been 
rather  more  turbulent  than  the  operatic. —  The  cause 
may  be  the  musical  medium  of  the  presentation, 
which  could  not  do  away  with  harmony  altogether. 
Or,  it  may  simply  mean  that  Wagner  was  pro-Ally. 

But  why  are  not  the  respective  demands  of  the 
Irish  petitioners  granted?  To  answer  the  question 
all  of  Lord  Wotan's  secret  runes  must  be  deciphered. 
The  spectator  at  the  next  performance  of  the  Ring 
here  in  America  will  no  doubt  understand  much 
more  of  them  than  he  did  at  the  last.  Something 
of  an  answer  is  given  later  in  the  fourth  scene.  For 
the  present  the  question  is  unsettled.  Wotan  will 
not  hear  of  an  absolute  possession  of  Freia. 
"Think  of  something  else  instead,"  he  tells  them; 
and  "  The  fair  goddess  of  freedom,  was  taugt  euch 
Tolpeln  ihr  Reiz?"  You  see,  he  is  hopelessly  in- 
sular: he  has  only  one  eye. — Finally  when  the  two 
begin  to  grow  unruly,  the  Lord  looks  helplessly  for 
a  being  he  calls  his  Chancelloge,  who  enters  theat- 
rically opportune. 

Study  (whenever  he  affords  you  the  occasion, 
which  is  not  often)  this  agile  and  elusive  arrival. 
He  seems  continually  shifting,  turning,  twisting  — 
so  that  you  really  cannot  tell  what  his  form  or  posi- 
tion is.  In  fact,  it  is  doubtful  whether  this  Chan- 
celloge has  any  distinct  personality:  he  changes  with 
each  new  situation  and  musical  phrase;  is  now  decor- 
ously shocked  at  the  suggestion  of  extreme  meas- 
ures, now  agitating  for  the  most  radical  solutions 

18 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

to  Lord  Wotan's  endless  entanglements;  now  he 
flares  up  bravely,  irradiating  the  Lord's  perplexities, 
and  now  he  is  a  meek  and  lambent  menial.  The 
frequency  of  these  changes  is  owing  in  part  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  office,  but  no  less  to  the  fickleness 
of  those  he  serves.  There  is  certainly  cause  enough 
for  his  lament:  "  Immer  ist  Undank  Chancelloge's 
Lohn."  See,  for  example,  how  Lord  Wotan's  whole 
establishment  turns  in  rage  against  him  as  soon  as 
he  appears,  because  of  the  Irish  situation,  although 
he  has  spent  all  his  energies  in  trying  to  find  a  sub- 
stitute for  the  Freia  that  stubborn  Fasouth  demands. 
He  frankly  declares,  however,  that  none  exists.  Be- 
sides, he  tells  Wotan,  he  has  promised  the  Irish 
what  they  ask.  But  the  Lord  says  he  has  his  own 
interests  to  look  after;  whereupon  a  gleaming  Glad- 
stone Chancelloge  at  once  shifts  into  a  Disraeli  con- 
cern regarding  foreign  aftairs,  and  he  leads  Wotan 
toward  Nibelheim. 

In  spite  of  his  continual  changes  of  front,  'Loge 
(as  he  is  named  for  short)  is  undoubtedly  sincere 
about  one  measure  dear  to  him.  He  has  heard  of 
Wilhelm  Alberich's  cruel  attack  upon  the  freeborn 
sea  dwellers,  and  he  implores  Lord  Wotan  to  go  to 
their  aid.  Now  the  history  of  August,  1914,  records 
the  immediate  response  of  the  Lord  in  behalf  of  the 
sufferers.  Wagner's  presentation,  therefore,  of  the 
old  gentleman  as  not  only  indifferent  to  this  plea,  but 
actually  himself  covetous  of  the  supremacy  the  sea- 
gold  can  give,  will  be  seriously  objected  to  by  the 
censor.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  due  extenuation  will 

19 


TBE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

be  accorded  the  dramatist,  for  here  he  evidently 
must  have  sketched  from  life.  His  portrait  of  the 
noble  Lord  is  one  familiar  to  us  since  the  days  of 
our  grammar  school  history  lessons  on  the  Revolu- 
tionary War  and  the  War  of  1812.  For  all  his 
prophetic  insight  Wagner  could  not  conceive  of 
Wotan's  abandoning  those  ambitious  hopes  of  his 
so  soon.  The  censor's  pardon,  therefore,  just  now! 
Full  amends  will  be  made  later  in  the  Cycle,  when 
our  ally  will  be  presented  in  an  entirely  different 
light.  In  the  meantime  may  the  offense  be  some- 
what condoned  by  the  sympathy  expressed  by  'Loge, 
that  assemblage  of  a  number  of  vastly  different  atti- 
tudes of  mind,  upon  hearing  the  plaintive  cries  from 
over  the  waters. 

When  the  scene  closes,  the  Irish  question  remains 
unanswered.  The  two  giants  seem  more  than  ever 
bent  on  victory;  and  the  curtain  goes  down  upon 
Lord  Wotan's  realm  with  the  never-setting  sunlight 
he  is  wont  to  boast  considerably  dimmed. 

The  third  scene  of  Das  Rheingold  is  the  interior 
of  a  Krupp  munition  factory  in  Nibelheim.  It  is 
not  particularly  realistic,  for  of  course  Wagner  was 
not  permitted  to  disclose  any  secrets  that  were  to 
be  kept  until  Der  Tag.  Hence  he  has  us  believe 
that  the  busy  factory  hands  are  mining  gold  and 
forging  ornaments,  whereas  they  are  really  making 
machine  guns  and  howitzers.  Much  of  the  scene 
consists  of  practical  tests  of  a  newly  invented  camou- 
flage device  —  or  is  it  only  a  gas  mask? —  patented 
under  the  trade  name  of  "  Tarnhelm."  The  head 

20 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

of  this  institution,  as  would  be  expected,  is  none  other 
than  the  Kriegsherr,  Kaiser  Wilhelm  Alberich. 

The  spectator  is  at  once  impressed  with  the  effi- 
ciency of  the  system,  for  immense  stores  of  ammu- 
nition are  continually  being  turned  out.  But  at  the 
same  time  his  highly  developed  twentieth  century 
regard  for  personal  liberty  is  outraged  by  the  in- 
human treatment  of  the  poor  Nibelungs  in  the  name 
of  discipline.  The  miserable  fellows  cower  under 
the  aller-hoch-Kaiserlichste  eye,  and  before  a  sign 
of  His  Majesty  they  dart  about  in  panic  haste.  So 
"  disciplined  "  are  they  that  there  is  no  need  for  any 
Imperial  revelation :  the  Presence  is  felt  everywhere 
even  when  not  seen.  Witness  the  howls  of  that  lit- 
tle fellow  at  the  beginning  of  the  scene  under  the 
invisible  Prussian  whip  !  How  profoundly  Wagner 
understood  this  aspect  of  the  political  situation,  we 
Americans  came  to  realize  fully  when  we  read  of 
the  discoveries  even  here  of  Nibelung  meddling  and 
peddling  and  small  beer  plotting.  "  Zittre  und 
zage,  gezahmtes  Heer!  "  he  cries;  and  though  gen- 
erations and  thousands  of  miles  intervene,  "  Unter- 
than  seid  ihr  ihm  immer!  " 

Such  an  organization  Lord  Wotan  and  'Loge  must 
overthrow.  They  realize  the  seriousness  of  the  sit- 
uation. "  Gesteh,"  says  'Loge,  unicht  leicht  gelingt 
der  Fang."  It  must  be  done,  however,  no  matter 
at  what  cost;  for  the  Hun's  purpose  in  organizing 
his  efficient  army  is  openly  proclaimed:  "  Die  ganze 
Welt  gewinn  ich  mit  ihm  mir  zu  eigen." 

Here    some   spectators   of   Das   Rheingold   will 

21 


TBE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

perhaps  sit  up  in  the  hope  of  seeing  enacted  details 
of  the  great  field  of  war.  Wagner  will  not  disap- 
point them.  But  the  composer  is  not  a  warrior-lec- 
turer telling  of  the  latest  secrets  of  trench  warfare; 
nor  does  he  endeavor  to  give  any  personally  con- 
ducted tour  through  northern  France.  An  intelli- 
gent audience  will  hardly  expect  him  to  concern  him- 
self much  with  campaign  and  battlefields  or  any  such 
seesaw  mutabilities.  The  philosophical  historian 
sees  through  the  smoky  cannonade  into  fixed  truths. 
Besides,  the  actual  conflict,  to  judge  by  the  scene 
before  us,  seems  absurdly  trifling.  Is  it  possible 
that  in  the  eyes  of  centuries  to  come  it  really  will  be 
so  insignificant  in  comparison  with  the  momentous 
upheavals  and  changes  of  which  it  was  incidental? 
Kaiser  Wilhelm  Alberich's  power  becomes  reduced 
to  that  of  a  toad  shut  up  in  "  die  engste  Klinze  " — 
a  clever  reference  to  the  Kiel  canal.  Whereupon 
he  finds  himself  a  wretched  prisoner  in  Wotan's 
power. 

So  much,  perhaps  for  the  naval  situation;  but  how 
about  the  fearful  conflict  in  France?  the  spectator 
wonders. —  Wagner  has  by  no  means  ignored  it:  he 
will  show  us  in  a  later  drama  trenches  and  tanks  and 
poison  gas,  and  enough  fighting  at  close  range  to 
thrill  the  deadest  soul. 

The  last  scene  of  Das  Rheingold  in  the  mean- 
time opens  with  a  rather  turbulent  wrangle  about 
peace  terms.  Lord  Wotan  insists  upon  enormous 
indemnities.  Wilhelm  Alberich,  after  some  miser- 
able protests,  agrees,  muttering  that  if  he  is  only 

22 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

permitted  to  retain  his  power  over  the  unfortunate 
Nibelungs,  the  paltry  sums  are  none  too  large  to 
pay  for  the  valuable  lessons  he  has  learned  against 
his  next  attempt  to  conquer  the  world.  ("Zu 
theuer  nicht  zahP  ich  die  Zucht,  lass'  ich  fur  die 
Lehre  den  Tand.")  But  Wotan  understands  his 
intentions  only  too  well;  and  Wilhelm  Alberich  has 
to  surrender  his  whole  power  before  he  is  released. 
Now,  when  the  treaty  of  peace  was  signed  one 
of  the  most  important  considerations  was  the  restor- 
ing to  the  Rhine-maidens  of  their  former  treas- 
ure. Yet  in  this  scene  the  antiquated  Lord  Wotan 
is  still  unable  to  take  his  one  eye  from  the  immense 
hoard  over  which  the  downfall  of  Wilhelm  Alberich 
has  given  him  power.  (Censor,  forbear!  This  is 
not  the  scene  of  redemption  promised  above.)  The 
only  reason  the  Lord  refrains  from  attempting  to 
realize  his  ambition  is  that  he  knows  that  his  whole 
realm  would  be  lost  if  he  disregarded  the  acts  and 
treatises  on  his  spear  for  selfish  ends.  What  such 
an  individual's  attitude  toward  the  Irish  would  be 
is  self-evident:  Fasouth  and  Fafnorth  appear  again 
with  their  complaint,  but  Wotan  shows  the  same 
harsh  attitude :  he  fears  lest  the  two  conspire  against 
him  and  undermine  his  jealously  guarded  power. 
His  'Loge  shows  again  a  brilliant  Gladstone  flame, 
but  this  time  it  is  quenched  into  a  Salisbury  cold 
glow,  a  mere  ornament  to  enhance  imperial  Wotan. 
The  Lord  throws  the  Irish  some  gold,  and  is  rather 
indignant  to  find  that  they  clamor  as  loudly  as  ever 
for  their  rights. —  The  1921  spectator  naturally 

23 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

shakes  his  head  over  such  foreign  and  domestic  poli- 
cies. 

In  presenting  the  outcome  of  the  Irish  upheaval, 
Wagner  surely  is  acting  as  propagandist  rather  than 
prophet.  It  hardly  seems  possible  that  Fasouth 
and  Fafnorth  will  have  to  settle  their  differences  by 
taking  to  arms.  In  the  play  when  the  Celtic  Fasouth 
appeals  to  Wotan  to  intercede,  the  Lord  turns  his 
back  upon  them;  whereupon  they  go  at  each  other 
with  upraised  clubs,  and  presently  one  of  them  lies 
dead.  Wagner's  terrible  warning,  it  is  hoped,  will 
preclude  the  catastrophe  in  which  the  momentum  of 
seven  centuries  of  insurrection  might  otherwise  re- 
sult. 

The  ancient  treaty-ridden  Lord  is  in  this  scene 
warned  of  another  contingency,  should  the  old  order 
prevail.  He  evidently  still  affects  divine  rights,  al- 
though he  knows  at  heart  that  it  is  now  "  aus  mit 
den  ewigen  Gottern."  But  when  his  mood  has  be- 
come particularly  arrogant,  the  veiled  figure  of 
Erda,  the  earth,  the  source  and  continent  of  all 
nations,  rises  and  warns  him  to  yield:  "  Weiche, 
Wotan,  weiche,"  lest  "  dunklem  Verderben"  over- 
take him.  This  contralto  solo  of  Erda's  has  been 
drowned  almost  beyond  hearing  these  days  by  the 
tumultuous  accompaniment.  Of  course,  even  so 
great  a  musician  as  Wagner  may  miscalculate  an  ef- 
fect. Looking  at  the  score  it  would  seem  that 
Erda's  command  to  the  Lord  to  yield  to  the  Irish 
ought  to  be  quite  effective.  Perhaps  in  the  future 
her  role  will  be  assigned  to  one  with  a  voice  of 

24 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

greater  carrying  power,  thereby  realizing  the  noble 
intentions  of  the  master.  Just  now  there  are  in 
England  several  promising  understudies;  and  here 
in  America,  too,  there  are  many  enthusiastic  aspi- 
rants to  the  part. 

But  for  the  present  the  Lord  remains  decidedly 
insular :  the  play  ends  with  Donner's  thundering  elo- 
quence in  Lord  Wotan's  honor,  and  a  state  proces- 
sion of  solemn  imperial  splendor. 

And  is  that  all?  Is  that  all  the  European  con- 
flict meant?  The  war  is  over  evidently,  but  what 
has  it  really  brought  about?  And  —  zounds! 
What  about  us  —  us  Americans !  Do  we  count  for 
nothing  to  that  quack  prophet,  we  who  were  the 
deciding  power?  We  are  asked  to  see  that  humbug 
performance,  and,  for  all  the  war's  having  pressed 
upon  us  everywhere,  are  to  believe  our  part  in  it  to 
be  deserving  not  even  the  mention!  Our  sacrifices, 
our  suffering,  our  best  men  on  the  battlefield 

The  indignant  spectator  must  have  forgotten: 
Das  Rheingold  is  only  the  prologue  to  the  whole 
business. 


DIE  WALKURE 

L,ord  Wotan's  head  has  been  shown  to  rest  un- 
easily indeed  under  his  imperial  crown.  He  will  not 
renounce  his  lofty  position  and  accept  the  lot  of  an 
everyday  mortal;  and  he  can  not  assume  an  absolute 
despotism  and  thereby  make  himself  free  from  all 

25 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

obligations:  for  his  power,  as  already  stated,  de- 
pends entirely  on  his  carrying  out  the  treaties  and 
ordinances  theatrically  represented  by  his  spear. 
After  ages  of  humiliating  compromise  and  barter  to 
preserve  his  dignity,  he  has  come  to  hate  his  own 
mockery  of  a  kingship.  So  false  a  position  as  he 
and  his  family  must  maintain  cannot  naturally  be 
enduring.  Even  in  Das  Rheingold  through  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  the  closing  court  scene 
rings  'Loge's  mockery  of  the  helpless  puppets: 
"  Ihrem  Ende  eilen  sie  zu,  die  so  stark  im  Bestehen 
sich  wahnen.  Fast  scham  ich  mich  mit  ihnen  zu 
schaffen  " ;  and  he  has  half  a  mind  to  destroy  them 
altogether.  This,  indeed,  the  spectator  knows  to  be 
no  mere  Hyde  Park  cinders:  he  has  read  strange 
letters  of  late  even  in  the  London  Times;  and,  any- 
way, 'Loge  really  gave  up  having  anything  "  mit 
ihnen  zu  schaffen  "  long  ago,  even  if  they  are  al- 
lowed to  exist  to-day. 

It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  Wotan,  as  he 
himself  shortly  will  confess,  secretly  yearns  to  be 
liberated  from  his  legal  bondage.  But  who  can 
help  him  without  entangling  him  further  in  com- 
promising diplomatic  snares?  Only  one,  is  the  an- 
swer, who  is  absolutely  free  from  the  alliances  and 
treaties  and  corrupt  ties  of  the  old  world.  And  so 
Wotan  conceives  of  the  idea  of  bringing  into  exist- 
ence a  new  being  in  a  new  world,  who  will  owe  him 
no  allegiance,  who  in  fact  will  antagonize  him  and 
thereby  aid  him  in  abolishing  his  absurdly  preten- 
tious existence.—  Die  Walkure  is  the  story  of  the 

26 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

birth  of  this  free  man  and  his  development.  Time : 
from  the  Colonial  period  onward. 

No  lesser  being  than  Wotan  himself  is  to  father 
the  race  of  the  deliverer.  (His  stiff  Lordship  may 
be  pardoned  the  vanity  because  of  the  nobleness  of 
the  intention.)  But  he  must  nowise  act  the  protect- 
ing parent  and  thereby  make  the  chosen  ones,  the 
Walsungs,  members  of  the  old  regime.  Accord- 
ingly, they  were  sent  far  away  into  a  land  where 
dangers  and  hardships  would  make  them  brave  and 
strong.  They  were  compelled  to  find  a  meager  sub- 
sistence in  a  wilderness  where,  according  to  our  re- 
ports, savage  men  and  beasts  waged  incessant  war- 
fare upon  them.  ("  Die  Feinde  wuchsen  uns 
viel.")  The  barbarous  tribes  wellnigh  extermi- 
nated them.  ("Uns  schuf  die  herbe  Noth  der 
Neidinge  harte  Schar.")  Their  women  were 
cruelly  murdered  ("Erschlagen  der  Mutter  muthi- 
ger  Leib  ")  or  met  with  an  even  more  horrible  fate 
("  Verschwunden  in  Gluthen  der  Schwester  Spur.") 
But  they  fought  valiantly,  until  their  foes  were  scat- 
tered ("Wie  Spreu  zerstob'  uns  der  Feind")  and 
their  land  secure. —  Thus  our  history. 

Of  such  a  race  only  can  spring  the  great  deliverer 
of  the  old  world  from  the  secret  treaties  and  com- 
promises such  as  bind  Wotan  to  the  outworn  order. 
But  one  last  eugenic  test  is  necessary  before  par- 
entage of  the  champion  can  be  granted  to  these 
chosen  offspring  of  Wotan.  The  maiden  Sieglinde 
(triumph  through  gentleness  and  mercy)  is  forcibly 
separated  from  her  beloved  Siegmund  (proclaimer 

27 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

of  victory) .  The  curtain  rises  upon  the  unhappy 
plight  of  the  two.  Sieglinde,  whose  very  reason  for 
existence  is  that  she  bring  to  birth  the  apotheosis  of 
freedom,  is  the  mate  of  the  dark  tyrant  Hunding, 
whose  voice  and  grim  visage  are  unmistakable  at- 
tributes of  the  Southern  slave  owner.  Siegmund, 
the  "  backwoods "  proclaimer  of  victory  for  the 
downtrodden,  has  barely  escaped  alive  after  a  fear- 
ful battle  off  the  stage  with  the  slave  owner's  kin, 
and  now  staggers  into  the  home  of  the  wretched 
Sieglinde,  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  violent  thun- 
derstorm. Wotan  could  hardly  wish  for  a  more 
terrible  ordeal  to  test  the  heroic  proportions  of  the 
two.  If  they  can  endure  and  triumph  over  their 
present  misfortunes,  then  indeed  are  they  worthy 
of  bringing  forth  the  great  freer  of  mankind. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  comment  on  the  signifi- 
cant events  that  ensue.  It  follows  as  the  night  the 
day  that  the  hero  will  rescue  the  distressed  one  from 
her  degradation.  If  the  decorous  spectator  at 
times  is  seized  with  apprehension  as  to  the  perfect 
propriety  of  the  volcanic  raptures  incidental  to  this 
liberation  even  on  the  operatic  stage,  let  him  ignore 
his  doubtful  senses  and  perceive  the  union  of  the 
perfect  pair  to  be  a  historical  fact,  one  of  the  proud- 
est in  our  annals.  The  proclaimer  of  victory  to  the 
oppressed  is  redeeming  from  slavery  the  mother 
country  of  him  who  in  a  later  age  is  destined  to 
liberate  the  entire  world  from  another  kind  of 
bondage.  The  historical  account  is  accurate  enough : 
Siegmund's  unpreparedness,  Hunding's  ultimatum, 

28 


the  high  resolve  to  free  Sieglinde,  the  drawing  of 
Nothung,  the  sword  of  liberation  (possible  only  to 
him  whose  cause  is  the  noblest)  and  the  final  tri- 
umphant determination  to  subdue  the  fierce  slave- 
owner —  all  this  the  spectator  recognizes  at  once, 
at  the  same  time  as  he  may  enjoy  the  most  passionate 
love  scene  ever  written  for  the  stage,  without  the 
uncomfortable  feeling  that  it's  unsuitable  for  these 
trying  times  and,  besides,  not  quite  right. 

The  second  act  brings  Lord  Wotan  again  before 
us.  But  now  he  is  not  with  his  staid  wife,  Fricka : 
that  daring,  willful,  caroling  girl  beside  him  is  his 
daughter  Briinnhilde,  born  of  his  soul's  yearning  for 
the  new  order.  She  is  the  very  spirit  of  ideal 
democracy  as  she  dashes  up  the  mountainside,  derid- 
ing the  formalities  of  the  Lord's  household.  Evi- 
dently she  is  not  a  member  of  the  family.  Lady 
Fricka's  contemptuous  looks  and  words  when  in 
her  presence  signify  that  she  should  really  be  re- 
garded as  merely  another  illegitimate  offspring  of  the 
inconstant  Lord.  Again  the  spectator's  indulgence 
is  craved:  his  Lordship's  two  conflicting  tendencies 
have  to  be  represented  dramatically  somehow; 
and  since  Fricka,  as  becomes  her  wifely  nature,  en- 
joins her  Lord  to  devotion  to  law  and  precedent,  the 
conservative  lady's  bitterness  toward  the  upstart, 
shameless  "  thing  "  drawing  his  Lordship  away  into 
newfangled  political  worlds,  is  quite  natural. 

In  Wotan's  interview  with  Briinnhilde  he  discloses 
his  heart's  desire  for  salvation  through  his  race  of 
freemen  in  the  distant  land.  ("Was  keinem  in 

29 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

Worten  ich  kiinde,  unausgesprochen  bleib'  es  ewig: 
Mit  mir  nur  rath'  ich,  red'  ich  zu  dir.")  Unspoken, 
indeed,  were  his  real  hopes  as  Siegmund  confronted 
the  slave  owner  in  battle.  History  has  recorded 
Alabama  cases  and  treacherous  help  given  Hunding; 
and  the  abuse  heaped  upon  Lord  Wotan  by  our 
press  found  echoes  until  rather  recent  years.  But 
the  Lord  has  been  sadly  misjudged,  because  his  real 
feelings  remained  unausgesprochen,  except  in  this 
second  act  of  Die  Walkure.  He  not  only  ex- 
presses his  wish  that  Siegmund  triumph,  but  he  gives 
Briinnhilde  instructions  to  see  to  it  that  he  does 
triumph.  It  is  only  when  his  wife  Fricka  appears 
(who  in  Lord  Wotan's  household  is  evidently  a  ma- 
jority) that  he  finds  himself  compelled  to  follow  his 
rigid  laws  and  defend  Hunding,  because  his  case 
pertains  to  certain  property  rights.  When  he  is 
again  alone  with  Brunnhilde  he  not  unnaturally 
rages  against  his  impotence :  "  Was  ich  liebe  muss 
ich  verlassen,  morden  wen  je  ich  minne,  trugend 
verrathen  wer  mir  traut."  Brunnhilde,  his  better 
self,  actually  tries  to  rebel,  but,  as  both  drama  and 
history  record,  Fricka's  power  prevails.  The 
drama,  in  fact,  parallels  history  in  the  vanquishing 
of  the  slave  owner,  the  liberation  of  Sieglinde,  and 
the  infliction  of  a  martyr's  death  on  the  proclaimer 
of  victory.  And  the  seed  of  liberty  and  strength 
here  also  will  be  found  to  grow  and  bear  fruit. 

The  rest  of  the  drama  is  more  spectacular  than 
historic.  Lord  Wotan,  jealous  of  his  prestige,  fears 
the  too,  too  solid  strength  of  ideal-democratic 

30 


Briinnhilde,  and  she  must,  if  not  die,  at  least  be  put 
fast  asleep.  He  is  altogether  too  deeply  fixed  in 
the  past  to  let  her  have  free  sway.  But  how  is  she 
to  be  kept  lying  dormant  indefinitely?  Again  Wotan 
calls  upon  his  trusty  aid,  the  many-tongued,  brilliant 
if  evanescent  chain  of  fiery  'Loge,  who  surrounds  her 
with  a  blaze  of  political  artifice,  so  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  detect  her  presence.  And  the  Lord  leaves 
her  there,  confident  that  even  if  a  rash  intruder 
should  appear,  it  will  hardly  be  possible  for  him  to 
penetrate  a  barrier  so  imposing  and  so  unassailable 
in  its  continuous  elusive  shifting.  Only  he  who  has 
sufficient  strength  and  vision  to  ignore  it  all  and  to 
challenge  the  Lord's  time-worn  imperial  compacts 
can  ever  hope  to  get  through.  ("Wer  meines 
Speres  Spitze  fiirchtet,  durchschreite  das  Feuer 
nie!") 


SIEGFRIED 

The  young  hero  who  rushes  upon  the  stage  is 
clearly  of  an  altogether  different  world.  He  seems 
possessed  with  a  wild  spirit  of  joy  and  freedom  that 
breaks  asunder  all  restraint  and  tramples  into  dust 
venerated  laws  and  usages.  Not  that  he  is  law- 
less (though  his  readiness  to  lynch  Mime  for  his 
dastardly  lies  is  grave  enough  charge  against  him)  : 
he  simply  cannot  recognize  impositions  merely  be- 
cause they  come  from  his  elders.  He  knows  of  no 
father  or  mother;  his  life  has  been  spent  in  grap- 

31 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

pling  with  the  terrible  realities  of  nature  at  her 
wildest;  and  his  indomitable  will  and  vitality  have 
triumphed  with  such  ease  and  such  rapidity  (he  is 
still  hardly  more  than  a  boy)  that  life  seems  to  him 
a  splendid  game.  How  different  from  the  sordid, 
unscrupulous  Wilhelm  Alberich;  how  hardly  less  dif- 
ferent from  the  aged  Fricka-and-spear-bound  Lord 
Wotan! 

His  name?  Siegfried,  which  means  "  peace  with 
victory."  The  spectator  recognizes  at  once  the 
name  and  the  lofty  outlook  upon  the  world.  But 
the  boisterous  actions  seem  somewhat  out  of  place. 
Is  it  possible  that  Wagner  for  once  erred,  expect- 
ing a  physically  more  suitable  actor  to  play  the  part 
of  Siegfried  than  the  unfortunate  invalid  who  actu- 
ally performed  it?  Everybody  knows  that  only  one 
rough-riding  actor  here  could  have  shown  that  fierce 
contempt  for  the  pacifist  coward  Mime,  and  that 
exultant  welcome  of  danger.  Why,  Wagner  is  quite 
specific :  the  robust  fellow  comes  dashing  home  from 
an  exploration  (or  hunt  is  it?)  in  the  forest,  bring- 
ing with  him  a  wild  bear !  He  much  prefers  savage 
beasts  to  Mimes.  ("  Alle  Thiere  sind  mir  theurer 
als  du!  ")  He  has  a  mania  for  excellent  weapons 
and  for  traveling  all  over  the  world.  ("  In  die 
Welt  zieh'n.")  And  if  all  this  does  not  identify 
him  as  the  beloved  leader  who  died  three  years  ago, 
he  is  certainly  betrayed  by  his  frequent  violent  ex- 
plosions which  are  accompanied  by  the  orchestra's 
Rrreckless-knuckled-big-stick-tempo,  his  characteris- 
tic let-motif  on  such  occasions. 

32 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

But  Wagner  may  have  made  the  substitution  of 
this  character  for  our  real  Siegfried  for  obvious 
theatrical  advantages.  To  proceed  with  the  story: 
Mime,  the  skulking  pacifist,  is  endeavoring  as  the 
curtain  rises  to  go  on  with  his  tinkering  business  as 
usual  in  spite  of  the  existence  in  the  world  of  Wil- 
helm  Alberich  and  a  fierce  military  dragon.  Sieg- 
fried evidently  does  not  know  that  Mime  is  really 
Wilhelm  Alberich's  brother,  and  that  the  intriguing 
creature  after  having  left  the  Kaiser's  realm  to 
escape  an  unbearable  tyrannical  rule,  is  now  plot- 
ting dire  ruin.  He  first  makes  an  attempt  to  obtain 
respect  and  obedience  by  insisting  that  he  is  Sieg- 
fried's only  parent.  But  Siegfried  knows  better:  he 
is  the  direct  descendant  of  the  great  Siegmund,  the 
proclaimer  of  victory  to  the  oppressed,  and  he  in- 
tends to  be  worthy  of  so  noble  an  ancestor.  And 
as  for  Mime  (who  in  a  way  really  did  support  him 
and  help  him  to  his  great  office,  however  basely  self- 
ish the  purpose),  Siegfried  can  ignore  the  miser- 
able wretch  and  proceed  with  his  high  purpose. 

All  the  details  of  this  position  of  ours  before  en- 
tering upon  the  Great  War  are  here  shrewdly  sug- 
gested. As  Siegfried  begins  to  prepare  himself, 
Mime  sets  about  to  instruct  him  in  the  art  of  fear- 
ing, by  telling  him  of  the  monstrous  acts  of  the  mili- 
tary dragon,  of  its  enormous  size  ("  Unmassen 
grimmig  ist  er  und  gross"),  of  mangled  bodies 
("  dem  brechen  die  Glieder  wie  Glas  "),  of  poison- 
ous gas  ("  Giftig  giesst  sich  ein  Geifer  ihm  aus  "). 
But  these  details  make  Siegfried  only  the  more  eager 

33 


to  put  an  end  to  this  terrible  war,  although  the 
shivering  wretch  can't  for  the  miserable  life  of  him 
understand  why  it  would  not  be  better  to  remain 
safe  within  the  cave  and  not  bother  about  dragons 
without.  In  fact,  when  he  is  conscripted  to  do  his 
work  he  is  disposed  to  hide  his  quaking  body  behind 
his  anvil,  hoping  thereby  to  escape. 

It  is  in  the  first  act  of  the  drama  that  Siegfried 
accomplishes  the  first  great  task  in  connection  with 
the  war.  Hitherto  Mime  has  been  forging  a  great 
number  of  little  swords,  all  of  which  proved  upon 
trial  to  be  hopelessly  ineffective.  He  is  too  pig- 
headed evidently  to  study  questions  pertaining  to 
standardization,  new  mechanical  devices,  raw  mate- 
rials, etc.  He  is  visited  by  a  noble  Wanderer  from 
Wotan's  realm  (Northcliffe?  Asquith?  Read- 
ing?), but  he  fails  to  take  the  obvious  advantage 
to  obtain  the  information  he  needs.  In  short,  hardly 
any  real  preparation  is  made,  and  the  military 
dragon  is  allowed  to  lord  it  over  his  treasure  prac- 
tically unmolested.  But  now  Siegfried  takes  the 
matter  into  his  own  hands.  First  he  smashes  all 
the  petty  swords  of  the  Mimes  of  the  world  and 
casts  them  aside :  the  dragon  must  be  killed  with  one 
great  sword  instead  of  a  number  of  ineffective  little 
ones.  Moreover,  it  must  be  the  sword  of  righteous- 
ness, made  of  the  same  steel  as  that  with  which  his 
father  liberated  the  enslaved  Sieglinde  from  Hun- 
ding:  the  greedy  and  paltrily  ambitious  Mime- 
weapons  can  accomplish  nothing. 

Siegfried's  first  step  in  forging  his  new  sword  hor- 

34 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

rifies  poor  Mime :  the  young  hero  sets  to  work  upon 
the  blade  of  his  ancestor,  and  presently  it  lies  re- 
duced to  nothing  but  a  heap  of  filings.  In  vain  the 
wretched  pacifist  protests  about  tradition  and  new 
entanglements  and  Monroe  documents  torn  to 
shreds.  Here  is  a  desperate  affliction  requiring  des- 
perate remedies.  The  country  round  now  begins  to 
resound  with  mighty  hammering  and  forging  and 
lusty  shouts  of  command.  Mime  sees  at  once  how 
more  effective  are  Siegfried's  methods.  ("  Mit  dem 
Schwert  gelingt's,  das  lern  ich  wohl:  furchtlos  fegt 
er's  zu  ganz.")  What  then  can  the  scoundrel  do 
to  bring  the  hero  to  harm?  When  he  finds  himself 
unobserved  by  the  eager  champion  he  sets  to  work 
upon  a  brew  of  his  own  formula.  It  consists  chiefly, 
he  says,  of  "  wiirz'gen  Saften  die  ich  gesammelt," 
but  the  spectator  knows  that  into  it  go,  besides 
poison,  vicious  microbes  and  emery  dust. 

Siegfried  in  his  exuberance  ignores  the  villain. 
He  has  completed  his  preparation.  His  sword  is 
ready.  The  command  is  given:  "  Schlage  den  Fals- 
chen,  falle  den  Schelm!  "  Over  the  top! 

The  second  act  presents  a  forest  scene,  perhaps 
the  Argonne.  Within  an  elaborate  dugout  lies  the 
military  dragon  that  has  hitherto  been  considered 
unconquerable.  Nearby  stands  a  mustachioed  indi- 
vidual of  strangely  humble  aspect.  The  spectator 
can  hardly  believe  that  it  is  Alberich  himself.  Can 
that  miserable  fellow  be  the  great  Kriegsherr?  Or 
is  it  possible  that  the  real  power  is  swayed  by  the 
military  dragon  himself,  and  that  the  great  war  lord 

35 


is  only  a  war  servant?  —  The  spectator  will  prob- 
ably shake  a  doubtful  head  over  this  notion  of  Wag- 
ner's. 

Before  the  arrival  of  Siegfried  some  attempts  are 
made  by  Lord  Wotan  (and,  strangely,  by  Wilhelm 
Alberich,  too,)  to  enter  upon  negotiations  with  the 
dragon.  But  the  monster  is  evidently  bent  upon 
annexations,  for  he  declares  his  peace  terms  to  be : 
"  Ich  lieg'  und  besitze."  The  war  therefore  must 
be  fought  to  a  finish. 

Siegfried  appears,  and  now  follows  a  splendidly 
staged  battle.  The  great  German  tank 1  of  a 
dragon,  scorning  his  untrained  youthful  opponent, 
caterpillars  his  lumbering  body  out  of  the  trench, 
supported  by  heavy  artillery  fire.  Siegfried  skill- 
fully flanks  the  dragon,  makes  an  effective  charge, 
and  succeeds  in  inflicting  considerable  damage.  The 
enemy,  now  thoroughly  roused,  calls  upon  all  his  re- 
serves; whereupon  deadly  gases  and  liquid  fires  are 
shot  at  Siegfried.  At  the  same  time  the  monster 
conducts  his  forces  in  accordance  with  the  most  ad- 
vanced theories  of  military  tactics.  Siegfried  relies 
upon  his  coolness  and  Yankee  wit  to  extricate  him- 
self from  his  dangerous  positions.  He  abides  a 
favorable  moment,  and  just  as  the  dragon  rears  to 
crush  him  by  sheer  weight,  the  plucky  fellow  after  a 
dexterous  leap  succeeds  in  piercing  the  heart  of  the 
monster. 

1  Wagner  may  be  pardoned  this  one  false  prophecy:  it  was  nat- 
ural for  him  to  believe  that  those  who  would  make  such  efficient 
use  of  u-boats  were  also  destined  to  bring  tanks  into  action. 

36 


Once  subdued,  the  dragon  undergoes  a  remark- 
able change:  he  becomes  rather  friendly,  and,  far 
from  resenting  his  defeat,  appears  satisfied  that  his 
accursed  existence  is  drawing  to  a  close.  —  Again 
the  spectator  wonders. 

But  now  Siegfried  must  attend  to  other  matters. 
First  of  all,  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  sea-treas- 
ure ?  The  hero  solves  the  problem  more  effectively 
than  a  conclave  of  diplomats  could  after  months  of 
conferences:  Let  nobody  own  it.  His  great  achieve- 
ment evidently  has  given  him  understanding.  The 
treacherous  Mime  soon  discovers  this,  as  he  meets 
with  his  just  doom.  And  now  that  the  enemies  both 
without  and  within  have  been  overcome,  the  great 
consummation  the  world  has  sought  may  be  realized. 
The  world  is  safe  for  democracy:  let  her  be  awak- 
ened! 

The  great  event  occurs  in  the  third  and  last  act. 
Lord  Wotan,  his  way  of  life  fall'n  into  the  sear,  the 
yellow  leaf,  summons  Erda  to  communicate  to  her 
his  resolve.  Erda  not  unnaturally  wonders  why  he 
has  punished  Briinnhilde,  his  noblest  offspring,  with 
banishment  and  eternal  sleep;  for  wasn't  it  he  him- 
self who  had  taught  her  to  defy  oppression  and  be 
true  to  his  ideals?  ("  Der  den  Trotz  lehrte  straft 
den  Trotz?  Der  die  That  entziindet  ziirnt  um  die 
That?  Der  das  Recht  wahrt,  der  die  Eide  hiitet  — 
wehret  dem  Recht?")  But  Wotan  needs  no  re- 
minders of  this,  for  he  has  learnt  that  the  primeval 
science  of  statecraft  is  now  obsolete.  ("  Urmutter- 
Weisheit  geht  zu  Ende.")  He  longs  for  redemp- 

37 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

tion  through  the  new  order,  when  Briinnhilde  will 
bestow  her  blessings  upon  mankind  unhampered 
by  him.  ("Wachend  wirkt  dein  wissendes  Kind 
erlosende  Weltenthat.")  And  since  he  knows  that 
his  runes  and  intrigues  are  now  intolerable,  and  that 
the  longed-for  redeemer  will  soon  appear,  he  bids 
Erda  rest,  never  again  to  be  disturbed. 

Siegfried  appears  shortly,  bent  upon  his  high  pur- 
pose. Now  Lord  Wotan  is  fully  aware  of  the  fate 
that  will  befall  him  upon  the  awakening  of  Briinn- 
hilde: "  Wer  sie  erweckte,  wer  sie  gewanne,  macht- 
los  macht'  er  mich  ewig!  "  His  cordial  reception 
of  Siegfried  is  therefore  no  mean  tribute  to  his  in- 
nate nobility.  Nothing,  it  will  be  said,  in  his  career 
became  him  like  the  leaving  of  it.  Hardly  any  con- 
flict really  takes  place :  the  sword  of  liberation  hews 
the  rotted  spear  into  pieces  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Hereafter  there  can  be  no  secret  treaties  and  alli- 
ances, no  wretched  compromises  and  stealthy  bar- 
gains to  cause  new  world  wars.  Siegfried  steps 
boldly  through  the  'Loge  tactics,  and  Briinnhilde  is 
awakened. 

Here  the  Ring  story  really  ends.  As  for  Gotter- 
dammerung,  no  judicious  Wagnerite,  perfect  or  im- 
perfect, past  or  present,  can  find  in  it  anything  but 
more  or  less  stereotyped  operatic  medley,  much  of 
it  sound  and  fury,  most  of  it  signifying  nothing. 

Hardly  anything,  it  would  seem,  ought  here  be 
said  about  the  music  itself.  But  incredible  as  it  is, 
no  few  denunciations  of  the  Wagnerian  scores  have 
been  made  by  the  stout  defenders  against  possible 

38 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

invasion  of  Teutonic  clefs  and  quavers.  It  might 
of  course  be  pointed  out  that  the  music  tells  the  same 
story  as  the  poem:  that  the  Loge  music,  for  exam- 
ple, darts  in  and  out  of  every  key  as  if  seeking  ways 
and  means;  or  that  the  Wilhelm  Alberich  music  is 
orchestrated  for  instruments  that  blare  the  gutturals 
of  German  speech;  or  that  the  music  for  Lord 
Wotan's  home  is  set  to  unmistakable  beef  and  ale 
harmony.  Or,  more  significantly,  that  with  the 
awakening  of  Briinnhilde's  pure  democracy  the  Wag- 
nerian  dramatic  music  changes  into  popular  opera. 
But  the  best  way  of  confuting  him  who  believes  the 
"  Waldweben  "  and  the  "  Ride  of  the  Valkyries  "  to 
be  sinister  Teutonic  propaganda,  is  to  let  him  exam- 
ine at  close  range  (whatever  protection  he  desires  to 
be  assured  him)  the  real  nature  of  the  Wagnerian 
music  drama.  He  will  quickly  discover  that  it  is 
based  entirely  upon  two  familiar  principles,  freedom 
and  equality:  freedom  from  fixed  operatic  and  auto- 
cratic forms  into  which  the  words  are  sent  willy- 
nilly;  and  equality  for  all  parts,  in  fact,  for  every 
word  of  the  dramas.  There  are  no  "  grand  "  tenor 
or  soprano  aria  settings  for  specially  favored  pas- 
sages, while  others  have  to  be  content  with  humble 
raiment  to  set  off  the  splendors  of  their  betters. 
Every  phrase  is  entitled  to  all  the  self-expression  and 
self-development  and  self-realization  the  most  ardent 
individualist  could  ask  for.  What  can  be  more 
truly  American  than  this  permission  of  the  "  little  " 
parts  to  decide  for  themselves  to  what  tempo  or  key 
or  instruments  they  wish  to  belong;  or,  peradven- 

39 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

ture,  to  remain  altogether  independent  of  any  dictat- 
ing orchestration? 

Such  are  the  music  dramas  barred  to  the  public 
since  the  outbreak  of  the  war.  They  glorify  the 
triumph  of  righteousness  in  1918;  yet  they  were 
silenced  as  inappropriate  —  even  irreverent.  And 
so  we  have  been  allowed  as  far  more  appropriate 
entertainment  the  thumpings  and  acrobatic  soprano- 
wrigglings  of  Lucias  and  Traviatas. 

When  will  Briinnhilde  really  awaken?  —  And 
will  there  follow  only  that  saccharine  operatic  gush  ? 


40 


IN  WHICH  IS   PRESENTED  THE  BOMBARDMENT  OF 

THE  DRAMAS  BY  STOUT  DEFENDERS  AGAINST 

AN  INVASION  OF  TEUTONIC  CLEFS  AND 

STAVES.      THE  SHELL  TORN  RUINS 

ARE  EXHIBITED. 


"  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 

T  ES  monuments  Frangais  Detruits  par  JJAlle- 
i  v  magne,  an  inquiry  published  in  1918  under  the 
direction  of  the  Etat  des  Beaux-Arts,  endeavors,  ac- 
cording to  its  editor,  "  to  conserve  and  to  transmit 
comme  une  arme  defensive  against  oblivion  the  mem- 
ory and  the  proof  of  deeds  which  later  will  grieve 
and  amaze  humanity  perhaps  even  more  than  they 
do  these  days  of  misery  and  confusion."  In  pecu- 
liar contrast  to  this  is  the  editor's  quotation  from 
Professor  Clement  of  the  University  of  Bonn,  dep- 
recating "  the  cult  of  monuments  which,  in  view  of 
the  military  necessities  and  in  consideration  of  the 
precious  lives  it  was  a  question  of  saving,  appears 
as  a  strange  sentimentality  and  anachronism." 
The  Professor's  introduction  of  the  human  element 
as  a  shield  behind  which  any  criminal  onslaught 
might  safely  be  perpetrated,  is  rather  cowardly. 
His  comparative  contempt  for  the  razed  structures 
does  not,  as  he  evidently  intended,  convey  any  re- 
spect for  human  life;  it  merely  emphasizes  the  bar- 
barous attitude  toward  things  of  beauty.  The 
"  cult  of  monuments  "  is  the  cult  of  the  former 
splendors  of  Reims  and  Louvain  and  Ypres,  the  cult 
of  art;  to  call  it  an  anachronism  is  to  abjure  all  em- 
bodiment of  noble  thoughts  and  emotions,  to  drop 
again  to  the  earth  upon  four  clawing  paws;  and  to 

43 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

regard  it  as  a  strange  sentimentality  $*.  term  which 
no  nation  still  afflicted  with  the  sorrows  of  Werther 
is  advised  to  use),  is  further  indication  of  how  far 
remote  from  every  day  necessities  like  the  military, 
the  Teuton  can  keep  that  nebulous  haze  wherein 
his  spirit  is  said  to  be.  The  antithesis  of  "  precious 
lives  "  with  monuments  of  art  is  characteristic  of 
the  German  plumb  line  method  of  investigation. 
Professor  Clement  in  an  open  letter  to  Albert  Bar- 
tholme  refers  to  the  silly  hypothesis  of  a  Raphael 
masterpiece  and  a  human  being  in  a  burning  room 
and  the  dilemma  of  the  rescuer.  Bartholme,  the 
professor  adds,  had  the  common  sense  ("  Milden 
Menschlichkeit "  is  the  German)  not  to  find  an  an- 
swer. 

To  suppose  the  destruction  of  human  life  com- 
parable with  the  shattering  of  a  cathedral  shows  a 
clod-like  limitation  of  man's  existence  to  the  finite 
actuality  of  his  handiwork.  A  demolished  work  of 
art,  existing  only  in  time  and  space,  its  form  one 
with  its  spirit,  is  reduced  to  a  rubbish  heap  of 
smirched  canvas  and  brick  and  timber.  And  in 
that  heap  lies  irrevocable  the  best  scoring  we  really 
have  of  mankind's  steady  rise.  Nobility  and  charity 
and  humanity  and  such  like  comforting  abstract  at- 
tainment is  lamentably  insecure.  The  tangible  crea- 
tions we  can  hold  on  to.  And  they  persuade  us  to 
believe  in  man's  strength  of  soul. —  The  French- 
man's belief  that  the  destruction  of  art  works  will 
grieve  and  amaze  humanity  even  more  in  the  future 
than  in  the  turbulent  present  is  indicative,  there- 

44 


11  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 

fore,  of  a  fine  apprehension.  It  could  safely  be 
maintained  that  the  images  evoked  by  the  name  of 
Louvain  and  of  Reims  were  as  disastrous  to  the 
German  cause  as  two  lost  battles.  For  the  monu- 
mental losses  were  felt  to  be  both  unnatural  and 
irretrievable;  the  battles  were  logical  episodes  of 
the  tragedy  of  war  and  may  have  a  retrospective 
reason  for  existence  —  if  curiously  regarded,  not 
remote  from  that  of  effecting  through  pity  and  fear 
a  purgation  of  these  emotions.  To  the  coming  gen- 
erations this  completed  tragedy  will  reproduce  its 
great  message;  while  the  shattered  architecture  and 
sculpture,  in  the  manner  of  Duncan's  virtues,  will 
plead  like  angels,  trumpet-tongued,  against  the  deep 
damnation  of  their  taking-off.  The  crumbled  frag- 
ments of  stone  defy  nature's  cicatrisive  ways.  In 
spite  of  the  elasticity  of  man's  wrath  it  will  never 
be  possible  to  condone  the  barbarous  destruction 
of  the  Cathedral  of  Reims. 

That  the  Germans  realized  this  may  be  inferred 
from  their  voluble  explanatory  protestations,  even 
while  their  guns  bombarded  the  city.  Ingenious 
and,  it  must  be  admitted,  rather  convincing  as  some 
of  their  arguments  appear,  they  are  not  in  the  least 
extenuating,  for  they  are  based  entirely  upon  mili- 
tary considerations.  If  these  could  be  accepted  as 
a  new  categorical  imperative,  the  German  attitude 
was  perfectly  logical.  According  to  the  infernal 
order  of  things  it  was  right  that  Reims  should  fall. 

But  let  the  Hun  be  given  his  due.  There  were 
no  attempts  to  explain  the  bombardment  as  necessi- 

45 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

tated  by  considerations  other  than  of  their  merely 
physical  existence.  We  have  read  nowhere  of  the 
Cathedral's  doom  because  of  its  spiritual  significance. 
Perhaps  the  Germans,  for  all  that  excrescence  they 
call  sentiment,  found  it  beyond  them  to  say  that 
Notre  Dame  de  Reims  was  an  embodiment  of  French 
patriotic  ideals  and  that  its  existence  was  fraught 
with  sinister  French  propaganda.  Public  feeling 
in  Germany  did  not  clamor  for  the  destruction  of 
anything  French  Gothic  as  a  barbarous  and  fearful 
relic.  The  magnificent  windows  of  the  Cathedral 
were  shattered  by  a  calculating  monster  seeing  in 
them  only  a  material  obstruction  to  his  plans;  but 
the  beast  pretended  to  no  such  human  construing 
of  the  gorgeous  glass  as  to  have  it  reflect  its  oppon- 
ents' hateful  culture.  It  reduced  to  dead  cinder  the 
marvelous  carved  wood,  and  it  demolished,  as  if 
they  had  been  earthen  breastworks,  the  devoutly 
statued  Gothic  glories.  But  of  the  grotesqueness 
of  civilized  concern  over  the  baleful  effect  of  those 
arches  and  traceries  upon  patriotic  devotion,  it 
seems  to  have  felt  nothing. 

Now  as  a  human  and  civilized  nation  we  of  course 
did  not  disregard  in  this  way  everything  but  our 
physical  strength.  The  contest  had  to  us  spiritual 
significance.  It  was  not  only  an  invading  army 
against  which  we  battled,  but  also  a  Kultur.  And 
since  military  and  geographic  exigencies  made  it  im- 
possible for  all  of  us  to  charge  against  the  former, 
many  drew  their  redoubtable  weapons  against  the 
latter;  for  that  adversary  was  conveniently  at  hand 

46 


'  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 

and  could  be  dealt  any  number  of  death  blows. 
After  all,  such  mutilation  was  no  doubt  an  excellent 
assuagement  of  the  bitterness  we  felt;  and  so  it 
served  to  make  not  so  much  our  nation  as  some  of 
our  more  corroding  or  explosive  citizens  safe  for 
democracy. 

That  is  how  we  shall  dismiss  outbreaks  such  as 
those  that  were  reported  to  have  taken  place  against 
statues  of  Goethe  and  Schiller  in  Chicago  and  Balti- 
more. Local  eruptions  —  say  prickly  heat.  It  hap- 
pens in  the  best  regulated  nations. —  But  what  will 
people  —  European  people  —  say?  Now  that  we 
are  more  intimate  with  them  (on  visiting  terms  and 
all  that)  they  will  have  their  opinions.  Shall  we 
be  regarded  by  these  old  folks  as  was  inexperienced 
David  Copperfield  by  the  considerate  Yarmouth 
waiter,  who  contrived  to  eat  up  the  lad's  chops  and 
potatoes  and  batter-pudding,  and  to  extract  from 
him  one  of  his  bright  shillings,  and  then  surveyed 
him  with  an  uplifted  eyebrow  that  announced  the 
clear  and  cold  fact :  "  You  are  young,  sir,  young,  very 
young  "  ? 

But  then  we  should  no  doubt  welcome  the  Yar- 
mouth waiter's  judgment.  We  are  rather  fond  of 
proclaiming  our  astonishment  over  the  achievements 
of  so  young  a  nation  as  we  are.  Why  have  we  as- 
sumed this  air  of  inveterate  youth?  Is  it  that  we 
like  to  apply  to  ourselves  the  direct  proportion  ac- 
cording to  nature,  of  the  length  of  infancy  to  the 
complexity  of  the  eventual  development?  Or,  are 
they  correct  in  their  estimation,  those  overseas  con- 

47 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

sumers  of  our  chops  and  potatoes  and  batter-pud- 
ding, and  extractors  of  our  bright  shillings?  Per- 
haps they  will  point  out  by  way  of  proof  our  ob- 
streperous distinctions  between  meum  and  tuum, 
exemplified  politically  by  the  Senatorial  attitude  to- 
ward the  League  of  Nations,  artistically  by  the 
openly  proclaimed  plea  that  the  Wagnerian  dramas 
be  banished  to  give  greater  opportunity  to  native 
talent.  We  may  look  back,  then,  upon  such  inci- 
dental matter  as  the  shattering  of  the  statues  and 
effigies  and  the  brave  show  of  tongues  fiercely  stuck 
out  against  the  foe  as  signs  of  youthful  high  spirits. 
Young  nations  will  be  young  nations.  As  long  as 
their  hearts  are  in  the  right  place.  .  .  . 

And  that  they  were.  Witness  the  lofty  indigna- 
tion recently  expressed  against  the  Teutonic  morals 
of  the  Nibelungen  Ring,  "  absolutely  incomprehen- 
sible to  our  modern  standards."  Precisely  what  is 
referred  to  is  somewhat  doubtful.  The  Ring  men 
are  not  disinclined  to  drink  —  sometimes  even  get 
their  heads  quite  befuddled.  And  the  Ring  women, 
far  from  taking  them  to  task,  are  at  times  their 
aiders  and  abettors.  But  that  is  hardly  as  yet  u  ab- 
solutely incomprehensible  "  to  us  moderns.  Most 
of  the  domestic  Ring  tale  —  unscrupulous  landlords 
clamoring  for  an  exorbitant  rental  on  your  Wal- 
halla  apartment;  the  drudges  down  in  the  Nibelheim 
kitchen  below  becoming  insolent  and  swearing  at  you 
openly;  your  wife  nagging  at  you  when  you  don't 
stay  at  home  or  when  you  show  the  slightest  civility 
to  some  other  lady;  your  children  unfeelingly  set- 

48 


ting  themselves  against  you  —  is  the  familiar  stuff 
of  our  everyday  decent  homes.  The  moral  atmos- 
phere,1 in  fact,  must  be  of  a  very  high  order:  for 
does  not  Mrs.  Wotan  triumph  completely  over  her 
recalcitrant  husband?  —  However,  the  objections 
raised  against  the  Wagnerian  morals  may  be  owing 
merely  to  the  recent  general  outbreak  of  righteous- 
ness, that  continues  these  days  with  unabated  fury. 
Of  a  different  nature  was  the  belief  that  Wagner 
was  responsible  for  much  of  the  world's  unrest. 
This  resulted  from  the  way  a  youthful  heart  has 
of  pumping  the  brain  sophomoric  and  dizzy.  It 
beat  indignation  over  the  Wagnerian  dramas  when 
the  barbarians  named  their  lines  of  resistance  against 
freedom  and  light  after  their  monstrous  pagan  gods. 
And  ha !  The  Rhine  flows  through  that  Cycle !  — 
Whereupon  reason  is  inundated  by  a  wildly  pulsing 
horror.  The  distance  from  the  battle  fields  made 
hearts  keener  and  minds  blunter.  British  vision 
was  clearer.  Londoners  could  witness  the  perform- 
ance of  Tristan  und  Isolde  comfortably  with  the 
likelihood  of  bombs  from  a  zeppelin  dropping  down 
any  minute. 

1  To  disarm  criticism  against  the  one  doubtful  scene  containing 
the  "  Braut  und  Schwester "  goings  on  in  Die  Walkiire,  it  is  only 
necessary  to  compare  the  conception  of  Siegfried,  whose  fiery  nature 
presupposes  unusual  parentage,  with  that  of  Milton's  "  divinest 
Melancholy "  whom  Vesta,  the  bright  haired, 

To  solitary  Saturn  bore ; 

His  daughter  she;   in   Saturn's   reign 

Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain. 

He  would  be  a  bold  modern  who  declared  the  Puritan's  lines  in- 
comprehensible. Beside  them  Wagner's  defection,  if  any,  in  view 
of  Siegfried's  extraordinary  physique,  is  eugenic  rather  than  moral. 

49 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

No  less  immature  certainly  was  the  discovery  of 
Prussian  ideals  in  the  music  itself.  Unfortunately, 
no  particular  passages  have  been  indicated  on  that 
score.  It  would  have  been  interesting  to  note  pre- 
cisely what  keys,  or  tempi,  or  what  harmonic  pro- 
gression or  orchestral  effects  had  been  singled  out 
as  especially  inimical.  At  present,  music  as  an  ex- 
position of  national  aspirations  is  rather  vague. 
The  strains  of  "  Heil  dir  im  Siegerkranz,"  for  exam- 
ple, through  mere  geographic  transposition  can  be 
made  to  expound  the  glories  of  Teutonic  imperial- 
ism, constitutional  British  monarchy,  and  pure  Amer- 
ican democracy. 

But  these  considerations  of  youthful  shortcomings 
are  relatively  unimportant,  for  with  the  reproduc- 
tion of  the  Wagnerian  dramas  they  may  be  forgot- 
ten. It  is  the  possibility  that  our  impetuous  patriot- 
ism may  ruin  some  of  the  world's  greatest  art  per- 
manently that  gives  rise  to  grave  apprehension. 
For,  only  if  they  be  sung  in  English  are  the  dramas 
to  be  tolerated.  And  we  refuse  to  be  startled  by 
the  uncanny  transformation.  We  will  not  be  aware 
of  how  the  English  versions  provoke  no  less  amaze- 
ment than  did  the  appearance  of  the  metamorphosed 
Bottom :  "  Bless  thee,  Wagner !  Bless  thee !  thou 
art  translated."  If  the  asinine  "  translation  "  were 
merely  a  passing  jest  and  the  normal  version  meant 
to  be  restored,  the  strange  comedy  would  be  amus- 
ing. But  already  we  have  heard  enraptured  Titan- 
ian  welcomings  of  the  proposed  transformation.  Is 

50 


"  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 

it  possible  that  there  will  be  no  awakening  from 
this  nightmare? 

The  now  general  acceptance  of  Wagner  in  Eng- 
lish must  be  attributed  to  one  of  those  queer  atavis- 
tic lapses  by  youth,  even  under  generous  impulses, 
into  predatory  cruelty.  Perhaps  it  is  a  revelation  of 
a  system  of  primitive  spoliage,  of  the  adorning  of 
the  capture  with  the  tribal  totems.  Or,  it  is  pos- 
sible that  the  effect  of  the  translated  monstrosities 
upon  our  foes  was  considered:  for  it  cannot  be  but 
these  must  have  shuddered  at  the  military  onslaught 
of  a  people  who  in  the  merest  of  sports,  the  opera, 
marshaled  such  terrifying  native  prosody  by  way 
of  guard  against  alien  contamination.  However 
noble  the  motive,  the  banishment  of  the  original 
words  for  which  Wagner  wrote  his  music  is  in  effect 
viciously  and  irreparably  destructive.  The  future, 
heedless  of  our  present  resentment  against  the  Ger- 
man language,  will  condemn  us  for  having  perpe- 
trated —  twentieth  century  enlightened  though  we 
are  —  a  palimpsestic  crime. 

The  original  text  must,  in  truth,  first  be  obliter- 
ated. The  judicious  who  will  grieve  include  not  only 
the  singers,  but  all  truly  appreciative  auditors  of 
the  drama.  After  so  many  decades  of  abundant 
exposition  of  the  Wagnerian  musical  and  dramatic 
principles,  the  impossibility  of  dissociating  the 
poetic  phrase  from  the  corresponding  musical,  or 
even  the  particular  word  from  its  corresponding  note 
or  chord,  is  surely  quite  understood.  And  how  un- 

51 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

likely  it  is  that  any  present  or  future  text,  super- 
scribed as  more  consonant  with  our  own  age  and 
our  own  land,  can  assume  this  musical  association, 
becomes  evident  when  the  wellnigh  impossible  re- 
strictions are  considered. 

The  translator's  ordinary  problems  are  of  lesser 
concern  here.  The  limitations  imposed  upon  him 
give  him  rare  occasion  indeed  to  consider  which  of 
the  two  general  purposes,  according  to  Arnold,  he 
must  choose.  The  first  of  these,  to  lull  the  reader 
into  the  illusion  that  he  is  confronting  an  original 
work,  to  affect  our  countrymen,  that  is,  as  the  orig- 
inal affected  its  natural  hearers,  would  be  deprecated 
with  a  horrified  pointing  to  the  way  the  Huns  were 
smitten  by  it.  (In  a  sense,  though,  the  existing 
English  versions  of  Wagner  appear,  save  the  mark! 
original  enough  when  placed  beside  Wagner's 
poems.)  The  translator  must  aim,  then,  to  give  the 
other  possible  effect,  namely,  entire  faithfulness  to 
the  German  original.  To  secure  such  faithfulness 
he  must  overcome  the  usual  lack  of  verbal  corre- 
spondence, which  De  Quincey  has  made  vivid  by  an 
image  from  the  language  of  eclipses:  'The  cor- 
respondence between  the  disk  of  the  original  word 
and  its  translated  representative  is,  in  thousands  of 
instances,  not  annular:  the  centers  do  not  coincide; 
the  wdrds  overlap;  and  this  arises  from  the  varying 
modes  in  which  different  nations  combine  ideas. 
The  French  word  shall  combine  the  elements, 
/,  m,  n,  o, —  the  nearest  English  word,  perhaps, 

5* 


11  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 

m,  n,  o,  p, —  by  one  element  richer,  by  one  element 
poorer." 

Then  the  German  language,  raucous  of  sound 
though  we  feel  it  to  be  and  unwieldy  of  structure,  is, 
because  of  its  metaphysical  and  psychological  conno- 
tative  power,  the  perfect  medium  for  the  Wagnerian 
conceptions,  and  because  of  "  its  capacity  of  compo- 
sition —  of  forming  compound  words  " —  the  per- 
fect vehicle  for  the  Wagnerian  music.  It  is  not 
impossible  to  accept  this  assertion  without  encroach- 
ment upon  the  fearful  battleground  of  style  and  con- 
tent. The  English  abstract  equivalent  may  at  times 
express  the  Wagnerian:  the  English  phrasal  substi- 
tution for  the  German  compound,  hardly  ever. 

To  such  verbal  limitations  must  be  added  the 
metrical. —  Shades  of  Raleigh  and  Colin  Clout  — 
still,  peradventure,  debating  through  the  western 
gale  upon  the  Irish  coast,  heedless  of  the  roars  of 
the  Spanish  eighteen-pounders  from  Fort  del  Oro, 
the  propriety  of  imitating  the  classic  meters  —  how 
fine  a  wrath  would  not  be  theirs  if  they  beheld  the 
butchered  imitations  of  the  (musically)  even  more 
impossible  Wagnerian!  The  disaster  that  the  pre- 
posterous Elizabethan  fashion  might  have  brought 
upon  English  poetry  was  happily  averted.  Con- 
sider the  desperate  hexameters  that,  as  it  was,  were 
perpetrated  in  the  endeavor  to  shatter  our  accentual 
vernacular  and  then  remold  it  nearer  to  the  heart's 
desire  for  classical  quantity.  Can  the  attempt  to 
substitute  English  words  for  the  German  original, 

53 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

with  the  inevitable  mutilation  of  either  rhythm  or 
reason,  be  more  enduring?  To  be  sure,  in  a  transla- 
tion from  a  modern  language  there  ought  to  be  no 
occasion  for  any  reckless  metrical  chiropody.  But 
the  problem  here  is  even  more  vexatious :  for  instead 
of  having  to  find  the  equivalence  for  merely  the 
classical  quantities  of  longs  and  shorts,  the  translator 
must  evaluate  his  syllables  for  musical  quantities 
from  breves  to  hemidemisemiquavers. 

These  are  only  the  technical  difficulties.  It  is  con- 
ceivable, however  unlikely,  that  an  English  text  may 
painfully  be  evolved  that  will  render  Wagner  with 
sufficient  accuracy,  and  that  at  the  same  time  will 
comply  with  the  musical  and  prosodic  exigencies 
(including  even  such  secondary  considerations  as 
alliteration  and  assonance  and  rhyme).  But  then 
Wagner  wrote  poetry;  'and  beyond  all  other  consid- 
erations the  English  substitute  must  be  poetic.  A 
marvelously  precise  mechanical  reproduction  once  at- 
tained, the  translator,  presumably  of  imagination  all 
compact,  is  expected  to  breathe  into  it  the  breath  of 
life.  Unless  he  succeeds  in  doing  this  his  product 
is  insufferable  nonsense.  If  it  is  meant  to  be  poetry 
it  must  under  all  circumstances  soar.  The  awkward 
flapper  is  really  a  distressing  sight.  It  pleads 
dumbly  for  a  merciful  delivering  shot. 

The  translator's  eye,  it  appears,  while  in  a  fine 
frenzy  rolling,  is  to  be  scrupulously  observant  of 
the  agreement  of  his  every  word  with  the  original 
text,  of  his  every  metrical  bar  with  the  prescribed 
musical.  Such  consideration  differs  not  only  in  de- 

54 


'  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 

gree  but  in  kind  from  that  of  conforming  with  the 
rhythmic  and  stanzaic  framework  of  true  poetry. 
The  support  or  means  or  mold  has  become  elaborate, 
embellished,  sometimes  an  almost  finished  product. 
The  translator  occasionally  has  to  produce  inspired 
tracing. 

No  English  poet  perhaps  exemplifies  as  does 
Swinburne  the  qualifications  requisite  to  the  rewrit- 
ing in  English  of  a  Wagnerian  poem.  How  easily 
such  a  one  might  have  been  harnessed  to  any  of  the 
imposed  restrictions  is  apparent  from  the  mad  pace 
in  Tristram  of  Lyonesse.  There  is  a  driving  in 
and  out  of  the  medieval  legend,  a  scattering  about 
of  brilliant  verbiage  in  lavish  if  misty  luminance. 
It  is  apparent  to  even  the  casual  reader  that  if  the 
profusion  be  impeded  by  multitudinous  directions  it 
must  turn  cold  and  dark. 

But  allow  for  miracles.  Granted  that  a  Swin- 
burne can  fly,  precisely  fine-wire  guided,  granted  that 
a  camel  can  go  through  a  needle's  eye.  The  animal 
when  it  emerges  must  be  rapped  upon  its  patient 
crown  anyway.  It  must  be  whacked  into  the  dust 
senseless,  dead.  There  must  be  no  such  animal  for 
there  can  be  no  such  animal. —  That  is  excellent 
logic,  excellently  applied.  That  can  be  no  begging 
of  a  question  of  taste. —  Say  the  miracle  does  occur. 
Say  the  crooked,  dry,  and  wooden  lines  that  are  to 
replace  Wagner's  were  to  shoot  living  English  blos- 
soms. They  would  be  out  of  their  proper  setting, 
their  fragrance  alien,  their  color  absurd.  They 
could  not  replace  the  indigenous.  At  best  they 

55 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

might  amaze  as  prestidigital  transplanting.  There 
could  not  possibly  be  any  recognition  of  the  inevit- 
able, requisite  to  true  appreciation.  The  altogether 
unexpected  in  art  has  been  found  often  enough  al- 
most as  disastrous  as  the  altogether  expected. 

The  proposal  to  translate  the  music  dramas  into 
French  or  Italian,  although  obviously  fraught  with 
the  same  impossibilities,1  has  at  least  the  merit  of 
acknowledging  the  superiority  of  a  foreign  over  an 
English  version.  To  be  obliged  to  hear  our  daily 
speech  from  the  lips  of  Kundry  or  Briinnhilde  would 
be  too  hard  a  strain  upon  our  credulity.  Disbelief 
is  willingly  suspended  when  it  confronts  the  impos- 
sible; but  it  bristles  violently  before  the  improbable. 
Even  the  most  inane  of  operas  that,  for  all  the  sense 
the  libretto  has,  might  as  well  be  sol-faed  all  the  way 
through,  is  generally  expected  to  be  sung  in  a  foreign 
language.  That  is  not  only  a  negative  shrinking 
from  hearing  the  pitiful  stuff  stark  naked;  it  is  a 
positive  demand  for  artistic  consistency. 

It  need  hardly  be  interposed  that  English  roman- 
tic poetry, 

The  same  that  oft-times  hath 
Charmed  magic  casements,  opening  on  the  foam 
Of  perilous  seas,  in  faery  lands  forlorn, 

1  When  Mr.  Ferrari-Fontana  appeared  as  Tristan  for  the  first 
time  in  1913,  singing  nearly  two  acts  in  German  and  then  continu- 
ing from  the  words  "  Wohin  nun  Tristan  scheidet,"  until  the  end  in 
his  native  language,  the  press  contrasted  the  clumsiness  of  the 
German  words  with  the  sensuous  beauty  of  the  Italian.  The  relief 
felt  by  the  audience  immediately  upon  the  discarding  of  the  labor- 
ious German  was  of  course  a  revelation  of  Mr.  Ferrari-Fontana 
and  not  of  Wagner. 

56 


'  TRADUTTORE,  TRADITORE  " 

is  just  as  remotely  removed  from  our  daily  speech 
as  is  Wagner's,  and  offers  similar  resistance  to  trans- 
lation into  any  vernacular. 

The  distance  from  reality  of  all  music  drama,  its 
invariable  origin  "  in  fremdes  Land,  unnahbar  eurem 
Schritten,"  renders  it  in  truth  inviolable  to  attempts 
at  foreign  aggression.  Our  own  poetic  drama  in  a 
similar  manner,  though  in  a  lesser  degree  because  of 
lesser  technical  difficulties,  shares  this  natural  pro- 
tection. Our,  that  is  the  English,  coast  of  Bohemia 
is  one  of  the  last  places  where  a  hostile  power  might 
effect  a  landing. —  But  then  only  an  esthetically  mil- 
itant nation  with  lust  for  world  dominion  would 
seriously  consider  such  enterprise.  All  great  pow- 
ers, it  is  to  be  hoped,  especially  after  the  fever  con- 
tracted in  1914  has  completely  abated,  will  calmly 
abjure  the  idea.  It  will  be  realized  that  a  reck- 
less seizure  of  foreign  poetic  expression  is  a  good 
deal  more  serious  than  a  mere  documentary  act  of 
annexation  of  a  strip  of  African  territory,  which 
thereby  changes  neither  its  outward  physical  charac- 
teristics nor,  it  is  pretty  safe  to  hazard,  many  of  its 
dusky  interior  activities.  It  is  really  not  false  or 
visionary  to  say  that  the  matter  should  have  been 
fully  discussed  at  the  peace  conference.  Applying 
the  perspective  test  —  whereby  we  estimate  the 
ancient  civilizations  so  largely  in  terms  of  artistic 
achievement,  studied  with  a  minuteness  which  we 
should  think  folly  to  apply  to  their  territorial  shift- 
ings  —  applying  the  test  to  our  own  age,  as  we  may 
expect  of  the  future,  the  urgency  of  such  a  discussion 

57 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

is  obvious.  As  for  ourselves,  our  attitude  surely 
ought  to  be  guided  by  Wilson's  lofty  pre-Versailles 
proclamation  of  "  No  annexations,  no  indemni- 
ties .  .  ." 

The  proposed  acquisitions  are  perhaps  meant  to 
be  only  temporary.  Eventually  the  original  words 
are  expected  to  be  restored  to  the  music.  The  Eng- 
lish translation  is  merely  a  precautionary  exposure 
of  the  Teutonic  subject  matter,  found  advisable  by 
us,  the  mandatory  of  a  possibly  insurgent  group  of 
music  dramas. —  That  is  all  very  well  indeed.  But 
the  English  text  once  established,  it  will  probably 
remain,  unless  sufficient  provocation  will  again  make 
a  change  necessary.  It  is  not  likely  that  the  general 
public  will  be  roused  sufficiently  by  the  artistic  short- 
comings to  insist  upon  a  restoration.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  change  will  be  felt  superficially  as  contrib- 
uting to  the  general  understanding  of  the  dramas, 
making  the  performance  of  them  endurable.  We 
have  inherited  a  good  deal  of  the  English  insistence 
upon  sensibleness  and  their  confidence  in  English  as 
its  inevitable  medium.  And  with  the  prevalent  be- 
lief that  the  words  don't  count  anyway,  there  will 
hardly  be  sufficient  protest  against  the  thousand  little 
defects  that  will  have  to  be  accepted  and  endured 
until  —  as  is  the  way  of  pain  and  ugliness  —  they 
gradually  become  unperceived. 

And  so  the  war  will  have  mutilated  Wagner's 
work,  even  as  it  mutilated  the  great  cathedrals  on 
the  Western  front.  After  the  patriotic  shot  and 
shell  that  have  been  directed  against  the  dramas 

58 


as  spiritual  obstacles  (the  distinction  must  again  be 
insisted  upon  as  our  due  tribute)  to  the  successful 
termination  of  the  war,  they  will  again  be  tolerated, 
provided  they  be  kept  in  a  translator-torn  state. 
The  implication  must  be  that  in  their  fringed  and 
ragged  condition  they  cannot  possibly  have  any  seduc- 
tive power,  and  will  leave  the  American  listener  at 
the  end  of  the  performance  loyal  to  his  native  in- 
stitutions. Certainly  in  years  to  come  when  the 
cracked  and  crooked  language  will  have  become  dis- 
sociated from  the  frantic  cause  of  its  existence,  there 
will  be  little  occasion  for  Wagner  worship.  Con- 
sider the  added  prestige  this  will  give  our  native  art. 
For  all  judgment  of  art  is  comparative,  and  ignor- 
ance of  the  greater  is  blissful  enjoyment  of  the  les- 
ser. And  so  the  war  will  have  produced  —  or 
rather  brought  out  of  its  ecliptic  state  into  light  — 
great  American  music  dramas.  And  so  it  will  have 
been  a  tremendous  stimulus  and  inspiration  to  Amer- 
ican music  drama.  Q.  E.  D. 

But  the  music  remains  in  a  sense  whole  in  spite 
of  the  translated  infliction.  Age  cannot  wither  that 
nor  custom  stale  its  infinite  variety.  It  is  proof 
against  bomb  and  densest  chauvinistic  gas.  It  will 
of  course  be  sadly  racked  and  torn.  Wagner's 
poetry  is  rooted  in  it.  Magnificent  individual  pas- 
sages will  be  empty,  hollow,  tottering,  crumbling. 
But  what  is  symphonic  will  stand  erect.  .  .  . 

Dr.  Van  Dyke  in  describing  Notre  Dame  de 
Reims  of  to-day  says  that  "  when  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance, the  mass  of  it  is  so  impressive  that  one  is  not 

59 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

conscious  of  the  damage  that  has  been  wrought  in 
the  glorious  structure."  It  is  only  upon  clearer 
view  that  the  completely  shattered  state  of  the  deli- 
cate ornamental  details  becomes  deplorably  clear. 
The  cathedral  is  seen  then  to  be  a  bare  and  gaping 
ruin. 

The  operatic  tourist  is,  alas!  interested  as  a  rule 
in  only  general  perspective.  The  outline  is  un- 
broken; it  is  familiar.  The  same  story  is  enacted, 
the  same  music  performed;  those  are  the  unchanged 
towering  heights. —  He  returns  home  broadened  and 
quickened. 

And  he  either  can  not  or  will  not  perceive  the 
depressing  mockery  of  the  battered  temple. 


60 


3 
"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

IN  WHICH  ARE  SHOWN  THE  CHARRED  REMAINS  OF 
THIRTEEN  TRANSLATORS  OF  "  TRISTAN    UND 
ISOLDE,  AS  WARNING  TO  FUTURE 
PERPETRATORS 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

PHONOGRAPHED  music  is  an  eminently  suit- 
able objective  for  the  smiter  of  Philistines  and 
the  slayer  of  them  with  great  slaughter.  For  one 
thing,  its  devotees  are  so  many  that  the  warrior 
has  sufficient  cause  to  appeal  for  Jehovah's  thunder 
against  them.  Then  it  proceeds  from  a  mechanical 
contraption,  hateful,  accordingly,  in  the  ears  of  the 
true  believer.  More  than  that,  it  has  become  com- 
mercialized, with  amazing  success  too.  It  is  there- 
fore unmistakably  a  contrivance  of  the  Children  of 
Darkness.  It  is  an  institution,  an  automaton,  banal, 
crude,  lifeless,  soulless ! 

It  is  or  it  isn't  art.  Buzz,  buzz.  ...  Its  present 
significance  only  the  deaf  could  deny.  To  the  spec- 
ulative historian  it  will  not  appear  fantastic  that  it 
may  have  far-reaching  effects  upon  future  music. 
The  proverbial  relation  between  necessity  and  in- 
vention (including  artistic)  does  not  take  into  ac- 
count their  reciprocal  parentage.  The  urgent  de- 
mand for  phonograph  records  can  hardly  fail  to 
affect  musical  composition.  It  is  not  safe  these 
democratic  days  to  deprecate  such  lowliness  as  be- 
neath the  highest.  Perhaps  it  never  was  safe.  It 
could  hardly  have  been  profitable.  The  Bard's  re- 
gard for  the  groundling  was  to  their  mutual  ad- 
vantage. The  king  looked  at  the  cat  in  turn,  and 
for  all  we  know  may  have  been  impressed. 

63 


The  phonograph  record,  then,  indicates  something 
of  the  recipro-genetic  nature  of  cause  and  effect;  it 
is  the  producer  as  well  as  the  product  of  operatic 
appreciation.  Its  influence  upon  the  composer  may 
in  time  be  significant.  Opera  may  become  less  of  a 
social  function  and  more  of  a  musical;  and  so  pro- 
gress to  a  further  remove  from  the  old  Italian  aria- 
recitative  successions,  whereby  a  lady  was  to  be  en- 
tertained by  the  singer  on  the  stage  and  the  gallant 
beside  her  in  sufficiently  rapid  alternations  to  keep 
her  diverted.  Nor  is  it  likely  that  the  operatic 
music,  drama  will  glide  onward  of  its  own  sweet  will, 
with  an  audience  now  floating  supine  with  it,  now 
sitting  up  to  recognize  a  familiar  part.  Such  a  pas- 
sive state  can  bring  little  appreciation.  Pleasure 
cannot  come  that  way.  To  furnish  enjoyment,  any 
clever  hostess  or  lover  or  theatrical  producer  will 
testify,  you  must  furnish  occasion  for  successful  self- 
activity.  The  entertained  listener,  like  the  enter- 
tained reader,  is  confronted  with  the  artist's  feelings 
and  thoughts,  and  renders  them  to  his  own  satisfac- 
tion in  the  medium  created  for  him.  Every  real 
hearer  of  music  stands  baton  in  hand  before  the 
orchestra  and  conducts  the  music,  and  if  the  per- 
formers have  given  magnificent  response,  he  feels 
that  high  elation  that  is  granted  only  to  one  who  has 
found  complete  expression.  If  the  music  is  incom- 
prehensible and  he  is  tired  or  indifferent,  he  may 
drift  on  a  tide  of  sound;  but  if  normally  active  he 
will  use  the  instrumental  material  in  a  manner  he 
understands  best.  He  knows  that  he  is  expected  to 

64 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

find  superior  pleasure  in  it,  and  so  he  proceeds  to 
turn  it  into  an  expression  of  whatever  has  given  him 
superior  pleasure,  be  it  no  matter  how  alien.  The 
less  compatible,  in  fact,  the  musical  substance  is  with 
his  imaginings,  the  greater  is  the  activity  imposed 
upon  him,  and  the  greater,  accordingly,  his  pleasure. 
By  dint  of  hard  effort  and  often  amazing  ingenuity 
he  discovers  in  a  structure  of  sound  dancing  nymphs 
and  dying  poets,  sea-kissing  moonbeams,  whole  land- 
scapes. It  would  apparently  be  simpler  to  limit  the 
interpretation  of  music  to  auditory  phenomena,  the 
swish  of  waves,  the  rumble  of  Manhattan  traffic, 
bird  song,  crashing  crockery.  But  no,  the  perform- 
ance is  best  visualized,  perhaps  because  of  the  more 
varied  and  definite  activities  of  the  eye,  perhaps  be- 
cause the  translated  product  is  sufficiently  remote 
from  the  original  to  make  any  unpleasant  compari- 
son possible.  So  the  altogether  pestiferous  idea  of 
the  program  parallel,  the  running  texual  gloss,  came 
into  existence;  whereby,  carefully  holding  on  to  the 
explanatory  banisters,  the  musically  weak  and 
wobbly  were  to  have  no  difficulty  in  mounting  pin- 
nacles ever  so  high.  The  embodiment  of  music  in 
the  concrete  is  really  a  natural  attempt  to  seize  upon 
it,  examine  it  and  understand  it.  Music  more  than 
any  other  of  the  dynamic  arts  is  actually  of  that 
point  of  time  we  mean  by  the  present.  Its  identity 
with  something  static  is  meant  to  fix  it  for  further 
observation.  The  choice  of  grass  and  brooks  and 
stars  to  serve  as  interpreters,  Laputan  as  it  is,  has 
at  any  rate  something  of  preclusive  merit.  For,  a 

65 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

vacuum  being  a  naturally  impossible  alternative, 
their  place  in  the  observant  mind  at  concert  or  opera 
would  otherwise  be  occupied  with  the  visually  — 
judging  by  the  newspaper  accounts  the  morning  after 
—  most  deserving  attractions :  the  distinguished 
gowns  and  jewels  that  were  present,  here  silver  gray 
silk  trimmed  with  pearl  embroidered  lace,  there 
white  satin  combined  with  mother-of-pearl  spangles, 
the  nacre  paillettes  draping  the  bodice.  .  .  .  Now, 
then,  the  phonograph  (to  return  from  the  excursion 
a  page  or  two  back),  however  imperfectly,  does  fix 
performed  music  for  further  observation.  This 
leads  to  understanding,  which  presently  becomes 
critical.  This  opera  record  gives  a  relentless  expo- 
sition of  what  might  otherwise  have  escaped  un- 
noticed. 

Beyond  the  obvious  consequences  of  such  exposi- 
tion, that  the  orchestral  guitar  accompaniment  will 
be  permanently  discarded  as  wearisome,  that  haz- 
ardous circus  tricks  in  high  vocal  altitudes  will  pall, 
that  a  surfeit  of  bel  canto  confectionery  will  sicken, 
that  long  distance  sostenuto  will  tend  to  be  impres- 
sive more  of  the  lungs'  fullness  than  of  the  soul's 
hunger  —  beyond  natural  reactions  regarding  de- 
tails such  as  these,  it  would  be  hard  to  prophesy  as 
to  the  music.  But  the  effect  upon  the  text  can  hardly 
admit  of  any  doubt.  The  words  will  have  to  make 
sense. —  Of  all  the  wonders  about  the  opera  the 
strangest  is  the  complacent  acceptance  of  the  unbe- 
lievable drivel  that  is  the  general  text.  The  sharp- 
est theatergoer,  who  if  the  same  crude  and  absurdly 

66 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

colored  bait  were  laid  for  him  in  a  play  would 
utterly  contemn  it,  swallows  the  whole  affair  at  the 
opera  house  and  even  believes  he  has  partaken  of  a 
rare  feast. —  Bah!  What  matters  the  story  or  the 
language?  Who  insists  upon  such  extraneous  mat- 
ter cannot  possibly  care  for  opera.  The  passionate 
lover  of  music  should  be  blind  and  deaf  to  the  im- 
penetrable stupidity,  the  wizened  and  painted  gaudi- 
ness,  the  idiotic  prancing  and  sputtering  and  fum- 
ing, of  his  beloved. —  The  closer  view  and  hearing 
of  what  it  really  is  may  bring  him  to  his  senses. 
The  phonograph  record  may  help  to  dispel  the  en- 
chantment that  the  distant  stage  has  lent. 

The  foreign  language  is  something  of  a  refuge. 
For  nonsense  is  quite  blatantly  exposed  only  when  it 
stands  in  the  vernacular.  The  alien  tongue  is  more 
merciful,  for  to  most  of  us  it  is  not  altogether  trans- 
parent. The  fonder  the  lover  of  grand  opera,  the 
more  reluctant,  it  would  seem,  should  he  be  to  have 
it  translated.  In  English,  to  be  sure,  it  is  all  arrant 
rot;  but,  look  you,  such  may  be  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  far  away  where  there  are  Cannibals  that 
each  other  eat,  the  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose 
heads  do  grow  beneath  their  shoulders.  They  per- 
haps do  express  themselves  in  just  such  bombast  and 
are  naturally  given  to  the  maudlin  and  tawdry. 

Such  considerations  may  have  had  little  to  do 
with  it  and  it  may  have  been  only  the  natural  inertia 
of  the  opera  companies  that  until  the  outbreak  of 
the  war  preserved  most  opera  and  music  drama  in 
the  original.  The  force  that  overcame  all  doubt 

67 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

and  inertia  was  the  force  that  in  1918  preserved  civ- 
ilization on  the  fields  of  France.  Yet  it  was  not  at 
all  spent  in  the  performance.  It  carried  on  where 
there  could  not  possibly  be  any  need  for  it.  It  struck 
with  particular  violence  —  of  all  things  —  the  music 
drama;  the  state  than  which  there  is  none  at  a 
farther  remove  from  the  daily  traffic.  As  well  have 
sent  an  expeditionary  force  into  Arimaspia  or  Xan- 
adu. It  must  be  admitted  that  it  was  the  simplest 
way  of  showing  resentment  against  the  German  lan- 
guage. It  required  merely  a  negative  insistence, 
preferable  certainly  to  a  positive  abolition  of  the 
German  press  or  to  the  carting  forth  and  burning  of 
a  hundred  thousand  German  books.  Beside  this  the 
banishment  of  Wagner  was  much  easier  to  effect; 
much  easier,  peradventure,  to  endure. 

And  then  after  a  decent  interval  of  time  he  may 
be  restored.  But  he  must  first  turn  English. — 
Considering  it  all,  it  may  be  an  unconscious  tribute 
to  the  poet.  We  have  with  charity  aforethought 
forborne  from  insisting  upon  translations  of  French 
and  Italian  operas.  We  recognize  in  Wagner's 
dramas  truly  noble  poetry  such  as  may  well  grace 
our  tongue.  We  find  them  staged  sensibly  in  Mon- 
salvat,  in  Nibelheim,  at  the  bottom  of  the  Rhine- 
maiden's  Rhine,  at  the  top  of  the  Valkyries'  moun- 
tains, where  poetic  rapture  is  more  likely  than,  say, 
in  Violetta's  drawing-room  in  Paris  or  in  the  real 
home  for  boys  in  the  Golden  West.  We  find  them, 
moreover,  set  to  music  that  is  of  acknowledged 
greatness.  The  combination,  we  feel,  may  bear  the 

68 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

closest  scrutiny.  Fix  it  for  the  ear  by  phonograph- 
ing  it  and  it  will  remain  music  and  poetry. —  Well, 
that  ought  certainly  to  stand  translation. 

But  the  tribute  which  the  general  demand  for 
Wagner  in  English  implies  turns  into  grotesque  in- 
sult when  this  is  carried  into  effect.  The  sound  and 
sense  and  spirit  of  the  new  words  will  no  longer  fit. 
They  bulge  here  and  strain  there  and  are  warped 
and  awry  all  over.  The  general  form,  fixed  by  the 
music,  remains  the  same.  The  poetry  it  is  meant  to 
grace  is  a  dead  and  senseless  weight. 

Unfortunately  the  common  disregard  which  expe- 
rience has  taught  only  too  well  for  operatic  libretto 
is  felt  largely  for  the  Wagnerian  text  also.  When 
selections  from  the  music  dramas  were  sung  in  Eng- 
lish, critical  opinion  was  expressed  upon  technical 
aspects  such  as  the  phrasing  and  the  pronunciation. 
The  words  were  taken  for  granted.  It  was  as  if 
nothing  but  the  choice  of  colors  on  a  canvas  were 
worth  considering,  and  the  wielding  of  the  brush. 
The  trappings  and  the  suits  of  musical  performances 
presumably  must  always  command  foremost  atten- 
tion. The  news  of  the  day  is  of  the  performer,  not 
of  the  dead  and  buried  composer.  Still,  a  resurrec- 
tion so  fearfully  and  wonderfully  absurd  as  that  of 
Wagner  might  interest  even  the  sensation  seeker; 
provided  always  he  consider  the  ante-mortem  text. 
Otherwise  he  would  hardly  find  the  language  of  the 
English  libretto  unusual. 

If  it  were  only  possible  to  submit  proof  —  phono- 
graphic proof  that  could  be  considered  leisurely  — 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

of  what  it  really  is  like,  there  might  be  less  enthusi- 
astic subscribing  to  the  ugly  perpetration.  Only  a 
partial  representation,  the  graphic,  the  black  and 
white,  is  possible.  It  is  at  least  indicative.  As  it 
is  the  more  so,  the  greater  the  beauty  of  the  original, 
the  proof  here  submitted  is  of  Tristan  und  Isolde. 

That  of  all  the  incredible  nonsense  that  is  called 
translation  of  this  music  drama  the  Corders'  is  the 
generally  used  English  libretto,  is  evidence  of  how 
operatic  is  the  accepted  regard  for  the  text.  The 
libretto  is  usually  anonymous,  a  saving  indication  of 
sense  by  the  authors.  Here  is  a  sample  from  the 
opening  scene : 

BRANGAENE: 

Extolled   by  ev'ry  nation, 
his  happy  country's  pride, 
the  hero  of  creation, — 
whose  fame  so  high  and  wide? 

ISOLDE : 

In  shrinking  trepidation 
his  shame  he  seeks  to  hide, 
while  to  the  king,  his  relation, 
he  brings  the  corpse-like  bride !  — 
Seems  it  so  senseless 
what  I  say? 

Well,  let  the  reader  judge. 

Tolerable  poetry  is  perhaps  the  hardest  to  stom- 
ach. We  spew  the  lukewarm  concoction  out  of  our 
mouths.  The  Corders  are  noteworthy  at  least 
in  that  their  banality  holds  the  reader's  attention. 
There  is  nothing  mediocre  about  it.  At  times  it  is 

70 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

so  pronounced  as  to  be  quite  impressive.  The  inter- 
pretation of  the  meeting  of  the  lovers  is  an  example. 
Possibly  the  pace  of  the  English  text  is  set  by  the 
customary  antics  on  the  stage  of  Tristan  and  Isolde 
immediately  after  drinking  the  love  potion.  The 
two  score  bars  or  so  that  it  takes  to  get  the  lovers 
started  is  used  by  the  singers  according  to  tradition 
for  muscular  activity  familiar  on  the  baseball  field  as 
incidental  to  the  pitchers'  warming  up.  When  at 
last  they  do  go  to  it  their  speed  and  control  is  relent- 
less: 

Endless  pleasure! 

Boundless  treasure ! . 

Ne'er  to  sever ! 

Never!     Never! 

As  the  poetic  rapture  of  the  second  act  rises,  the 
Corder  translation  begins  to  froth  and  rave.  The 
reader  will  hardly  believe  that  the  following,  for 
example,  is  the  accepted  version  of  part  of  the  duet, 
reprinted  from  the  standard  libretto : 

Hid  our  hearts  away 

sunlight's  streaming, 

bliss  would  bloom 

from  stars'  tender  beaming. 

To  thy  enchantment 

we  surrender 

beneath  thy  gaze 

so  wondrous  tender; 

heart  to  heart 

and  lip  to  lip, 

each  the  other's 

breath  we  sip.  .  .  .  Etc. 

71 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

Further  quotation  might  be  spared.  But  it  is  not 
only  from  the  fury  of  the  existing  translations  that 
the  good  Lord  is  to  deliver  us,  but  from  threatened 
further  barbarous  invasions.  Which  to  prevent,  the 
terrifying  record  of  those  who  in  the  past  have 
sought  to  effect  anything  like  a  landing,  is  herewith 
dutifully  exposed. 

To  the  natural  difficulties  which  the  unfortunate 
translator  encountered  in  the  German  sentence  struc- 
ture, transposed  as  it  is  beyond  the  limits  of  our  wid- 
est poetic  license,  must  be  added  such  cramping  re- 
quirements as  rhyme,  which  produced  distortions 
such  as  "  When  in  the  sick  man's  keen  blade  she  per- 
ceived a  notch  had  been  made";  and  alliteration, 
responsible  for  monstrosities  like  "  Blood-guilt  gets 
between  us,"  "  Blissful  beams  our  eyes  are  binding." 
Then  there  are  many  abstract  terms,  especially  those 
that  have  distinct  Wagnerian  connotation,  that  can- 
not possibly  be  translated.  "  Wahn "  is  not 
"folly"  (the  Corders  turned  "  Welcher  Wahn" 
into  "  What  a  whim!  ")  nor  is  "  Lust  "  the  same  as 
"  Bliss."  "  In  (Isolden)  selig  nicht  ganz  verging  " 
is  supposed  to  mean  "  not  sink  at  once  into  bondage 
blest." 

The  greatest  obstacle  is  of  course  the  fixed  mel- 
ody, not  of  the  larger,  simpler  and  more  obvious 
"  dance-form,"  as  Wagner  names  it,  into  which  a 
stanza  or  whole  verse  paragraph  may  be  made  to 
fit,  regardless  of  the  position  of  individual  words  or 
even  lines,  but  melody  that  is  an  intense  and  beauti- 
ful reading  of  the  poem.  Precise  textual  equivalence 

72 


is  hardly  ever  possible.  And  even  slight  transposi- 
tions result  in  utterly  meaningless  singing.  Thus, 
"  er  sah  mir  in  die  Augen,"  the  last  word  of  which 
is  linked  with  the  corresponding  motif,  becomes 
"  his  eyes  on  mine  were  fastened,"  to  which  the 
music  is  quite  unrelated.  "  Das  Schwert  —  ich  liess 
es  fallen  "  is  turned  into  "  The  sword  —  dropped 
from  my  fingers,"  in  which  the  fine  repression  and 
suspense  of  the  pause  after  "  ich  "  and  after  "  liess  " 
are  lost  by  the  anteposition  of  "  dropped,"  and  the 
following  words  made  merely  redundant.  "  Mit 
dem  Blick  mich  nicht  mehr  beschwere!  "  where  the 
significance  of  text  and  music  depends  on  the  word 
"  Blick,"  is  in  Corder  English  "  my  emotion  then 
might  be  ended,"  with  its  equivalent  of  the  inane 
syllable  "  mo."  Isolde's  unspeakable  contempt 
"  fur  Kornwalls  miiden  Konig  "  is  absurdly  made  a 
geographic  aversion  "  for  Mark,  the  Cornish  mon- 
arch." 

The  page  from  which  these  examples  have  been 
taken  is  representative  of  the  whole  work.  There  is 
hardly  a  passage  but  has  its  shortcomings.  And 
every  now  and  then  these  wax  into  truly  monumental 
lapses,  like  Isolde's  puzzling 

"  How  his  heart 
with  lion  zest 
calmly  happy 
beats  in  his  breast  " 

and  Marke's  shocking 

"  Why  in  hell  must  I  bide  "... 
Why,  indeed !  — 

73 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

In  the  preface  to  his  translation  Jackson  attempts 
to  indicate  the  climactic  effectiveness  of  the  drama 
by  quotations  such  as :  "  The  waves  of  melody  rise 
higher  and  higher,  as  if  the  distant  portals  of  heaven 
opened  to  the  vibrations  of  two  hearts." —  The  most 
curious  of  literary  illusions  certainly  must  be  his  who 
imitates  a  high  winged  flight  by  flapping  his  blunt 
feathers  and  believes  the  windy  disturbance  he  makes 
to  be  indicative  of  altitude  and  speed.  The  prefa- 
tory dizziness  is  felt  throughout  the  work: 

"  O  branded  blindness ! 
Heart's  ensnaring, 
Daunted  daring's 
Silence  despairing! 

Jackson's  diction  is  noteworthy:  Tristan  considers 
the  potion  "heart  enmaddening  " ;  Isolde  calls  him 
her  "faithless  enfolder";  and  while  Brangaene  is 
"  blooming  and  wailing  to  heaven,"  the  two  lovers 
are  in  chewing  gum  rapture  over  their  "  luscious  de- 
lights." The  translator  throughout  shows  vast 
range,  now  gushing  forth  that 

"  The  purling  fount's 
Rippling  current 
Murmurs  so  merrily  on," 

now  in  a  business-like  manner  begging  to  state  that 

"  Thy  fate  had  truly 
Been  settled  duly." 

74 


11  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

The  Earl  of  Roscommon's  rule  for  translators 
is  never  forgotten:  "Though  gross  innumerable 
faults  abound,  In  spite  of  nonsense  never  fail  of 
sound." 

Of  regard  for  the  music  there  is  probably  less  here 
than  in  any  other  translation  meant  to  be  sung. 
Even  outstanding  conformity  is  ignored.  Bran- 
gaene's  "  was  dich  qualt,"  with  its  implication  both 
by  voice  and  orchestra  of  the  key  motif  of  the  play, 
is  made  meaningless  by  "  to  me  confess."  "  Der 
wunde,  die  ihn  plagte,"  with  its  continuous  suffering 
in  chromatic  descents,  is  in  fine  musical  and  dramatic 
contrast  to  the  following  line,  "  getreulich  pflag  sie 
da  "  ;  and  the  effect  is  destroyed  by  singing  both  ideas 
in  the  first  line:  "She  healed  the  wounds  that  pained 
him,"  and  then  adding,  as  Jackson  seems  to  have  a 
mania  for  doing,  trite  and  irrelevant  details:  "  And 
watched  him  night  and  day."  Similar  ruinous  treat- 
ment is  accorded  the  admirable  setting  of  "  das 
Schwert  —  ich  liess  es  fallen  !  "  :  "  It  fell  —  for  thee 
alone  meant !  "  The  absurdity  to  which  this  indif- 
ference to  the  music  led  him  is  well  exemplified  by 
his  disregard  of  the  four  bars  that  separate  Bran- 
gaene's  reply  to  Isolde's  request  for  the  casket  —  a 
passage  necessary  dramatically  for  Brangaene  to 
cross  the  stage  to  fetch  the  casket,  and  musically  to 
develop  the  phrase  associated  with  it  —  from  her 
exposition  of  its  contents.  Jackson's  sentence  is  left 
dangling,  broken  in  two  by  the  passage. 

With  a  parting  mention  of  the  Beckmesser  versifi- 
cation (Be' fore  the  sun  shall  set";  "whatever 

75 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

Y'solde  com'mand,"  etc.)  and  the  distortions  that 
they  produce,  such  as  "  No  insult  such  would  twice 
to  give  they  desire  to  "  and  "  In  custom  search  " 
("  Fragt  die  Sitte  ")  —  this  chamber  of  "  Tristan  " 
horrors  has  received  sufficient  notice.  We  pass  to 
Exhibit  C,  the  Chapman  version. 

The  inevitable  crippled  and  club-footed  lines  are 
here  too  in  abundance.  Especially  cruel  is  the  con- 
stant dismemberment  of  the  text,  sentences  and 
phrases  being  ruthlessly  lopped  off  where  the  music 
and  the  drama  call  for  a  pause.  Specimen:  "  dem 
Eigenholde "  (rest):  "forthwith  be  told,  he"; 
unun  hore  "  (rest):  "  now  hear  what";  "  Und 
warb  er  Marke  "  (rest):  "and  if  to  Mark  he." 
The  exigencies  of  rhyme  make  it  necessary  for  Isolde 
to  "  mend  "  Tristan,  of  alliteration,  to  "  waken  the 
deep  and  the  growl  of  its  greed  " ;  of  stanzaic  con- 
formity, "  from  this  wonder,  sun  to  sunder." 

The  text  in  general  has  the  usual  defects.  There 
is  such  senseless  translation  as  that  of  "  Welcher 
Wahn  "  into  "  This  is  false,"  "  Hart  am  Ziel  "  into 
"  Right  at  land,"  "  Liebeswonne  "  into  "  Love  and 
passion."  "  Diess  wondervolle  Weib  "  becomes 
"  This  wondrous  fair,  a  wife  ";  "  Sehnsucht  Noth  " 
is  "  wistful  pain  ";  "  Isolde  lebt  und  wacht  "  means 
"  Isolde  lives  aright."  The  significance  of  "  Urver- 
gessen  "  is  "  out  of  thinking."  The  music  becomes 
often  meaningless,  as  when  Isolde's  scornful  refer- 
ence to  the  king,  "  Stehen  wir  vor  Konig  Marke," 
is  turned  into  "We  shall  ere  long  be  standing"; 
or,  when  orchestra  and  voice  suggest  "  Laubes 

76 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

sauselnd  Geton,"  the  words  are:  "(by)  branches  art 
thou  misled."  Nor  are  there  lacking  such  special 
features  as  Tristan's  suspicious  account  of  how  he 
obtained  that  powerful  drink.  Somebody  "  slipped 
it  "  to  him,  he  says,  and  he  goes  on  to  relate  how 
"  filled  with  rapture  "  he  "  sipped  it."  Isolde,  as 
befits  a  lady,  takes  it  of  course  only  for  her  health: 
'  This  draught  will  do  me  good,"  she  says. 

The  Jameson  translation  clutches  fearfully  to  the 
original.  It  aims  at  perfect  word  and  even  phrase 
equivalence  and  does  succeed  better  than  any  other. 
But  it  follows  that  much  of  it  is  utterly  unidiomatic, 
and  some  of  it  even  absurd.  The  disregard  for 
rhyme  and  alliteration  is  conducive  to  exactness; 
but  the  removal  of  such  restraint  makes  the  poetic 
rapture  of  the  drama  fly  outward  into  apparently 
irrelevant  directions.  Unrhymed  lyric  expression 
that  can  give  the  engraved  effect  of  the  rhymed  (as 
Tennyson's  "  Tears,  idle  tears  "  does)  is  rare.  The 
ordinary  attempts  sprawl. —  Jameson  at  best  writes 
prose.  At  worst  his  accurate  following  of  the  Ger- 
man leads  to  such  constructions  as  "  No  day  nor 
morrow  "  ("  Nicht  heut'  noch  morgen  ")  or  "  True 
be  to  me?"  ("  Bist  du  mir  treu?");  or  to  such 
felicities  as  "  this  peerless  first  of  heroes  "  and  "  he 
looked  beneath  my  eyelids." 

Forman's  translation  is  certainly  not  prose.  If 
eight  pages  of  appendixed  press  notices  (quoting 
among  others  Swinburne  and  Watts-Dunton)  can 
establish  anything,  it  ought  to  be  magnificent  poetry. 
It  is  presumably  the  best  that  has  been  done  by  way 

77 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

of  Tristan  translation,  and  is  therefore  the  most 
illuminating.  It  permits  of  judgment  of  a  product 
finished  in  conformance  with  the  Wagnerian  require- 
ments. It  follows  carefully,  as  the  title  page  prom- 
ises, the  mixed  alliterative  and  rhyming  meters  of 
the  original.  It  is  not  intended,  however,  says  the 
author,  "  to  be  taken  is  strict  and  continuous  com- 
pany with  the  music,"  and  he  has  "  not  considered  it 
necessary  to  print  the  numerous  alternative  readings 
which  would  be  requisite  for  such  a  purpose." — 
Whereby  is  implied  that  the  alternative  lines  are 
more  singable  than  readable.  It  would  be  rather 
interesting,  considering  the  "  readable  "  text,  to  see 
those  alternative  lines  which  have  been  kept  pru- 
dently out  of  print.  They  baffle  speculation  of  pos- 
sibilities in  grotesque. 

For  the  printed  version  is  as  fantastically  puffed 
up  a  piece  of  writing  as  the  affliction  of  "  style  "  has 
ever  produced.  It  is  really  astonishing  that  any  one 
of  our  own  age  should  care  to  accept  the  tinsel  lega- 
cies that  were  Euphues'.  But  here  they  are,  jacked 
up  on  impossible  stilts,  those  mechanical  contrivances 
of  elaborate  indirectness  and  far-fetched  phraseol- 
ogy, that  dreary  parade  of  senseless  sound.  And 
it  has  not  even  the  occasional  glib  cleverness  and 
fancy  that  some  of  the  anatomists  of  wit  attained. 
It  is  altogether  ridiculous.  "  Let  laughter,"  says 
Isolde  when  she  extinguishes  the  torch,  "  let  laugh- 
ter as  I  slake  it  be  the  sound!  "  And  surely  no 
audience  will  disappoint  her  when  the  next  thing 
heard  is 

78 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

ISOLDE:      Faithlessly  fondest. 
TRISTAN:  Deathlessly  dearest  .  .  . 
BOTH  :        Seas  in  our  hearts 

to  billows  are  shaken! 

My  mind  in  a  tempest 

of  madness  is  taken! 

Lifts  me  the  surge 

of  a  sense  beyond  name ! 

Fills  me  a  goading 

gladdening  flame! 

My  bosom  the  bliss 

can  bear  not  of  this! 

Provided  the  audience  hears  it.  Typographically  it 
is  certainly  no  more  preposterous  than  phonograph- 
ically.  Whether  they  be  read  or  sung  such  phenom- 
ena must  be  encountered  as  "  Hope  of  hap,"  "  un- 
shuddering  ship,"  "  for  baneful  draught  its  backward 
bane."  Tristan  is  here  a  "  bride-beseecher,"  "  in 
truth  the  most  unturning."  The  alliterative  orgy 
makes  the  lines  stagger  ("  From  him  back  you  will 
hear";  "me  thou  wouldst  linger  not  nigh  to"), 
and  hiccup  ("He  prated  at  lip,"  "The  sword  — 
I  downward  sank  it"),  and  go  off  into  besotted 
gibberish  ("A  scorn  that  scarred  her  land,"  "  who 
Isold'  could  see  and  in  Isold'  not  madden  to  melt 
his  soul"). —  Which  suggests  the  literal  subject 
matter  of  Tristan's  reference  —  irreverent  and  un- 
constitutional though  it  be  —  to  that  accursed  drink 
"  whose  foam  with  bliss  I  sipped  and  swallowed." 

If   a   final   demonstration  were   needed  of  what 
Wagner  is  like  in  English  it  is  furnished  by  Le  Gal- 

79 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

lienne.  His  Tristan  is  unrestrained  by  any  con- 
sideration for  the  music  or  the  original  meter, 
rhyme,  and  alliteration.  The  freedom  thereby 
gained  should  be  promising.  Yet  the  product  is 
very  tame  indeed.  It  is  sometimes  incorrect  as 
translation,  often  slipshod,  rather  wearisome 
throughout.  Illustrative  passages  might  be  taken 
almost  at  random;  but  Wagner  translations  prob- 
ably the  reader's  bosom  more  can  bear  not  of  this. 
An  interesting  sidelight  upon  the  subject  is  cast  by 
Oliver  Huckel's  effort  to  translate  into  narrative 
blank  verse  both  the  words  and  the  action  of  the 
music  drama.  For  though  his  muse,  certainly  un- 
like Le  Gallienne's,  is  one  of  raven  hair  and  ruby 
lips,  his  version  is  the  more  readable.  But  only 
when  Wagner  is  lost  sight  of  altogether,  as  in  Tris- 
tram of  Lyonesse,  is  English  poetry  evidently  pos- 
sible. 

Mention  should  be  made  of  a  new  translation  of 
the  "  Liebestod,"  which  has  been  sung  at  several 
orchestral  concerts.  It  is  a  faithful  enough  version, 
but  there  is  nothing  about  it  to  modify  the  conclu- 
sions already  drawn.  It  is  better  than  the  Corders' 
cabaret  finale  of  "  sinking,  be  drinking,  in  a  kiss, 
highest  bliss."  And  yet,  more  than  such  damning 
praise  can  hardly  be  given  "  immerse  me,  disperse 
me,  wittingless  find  sweet  bliss."  "  Immerse  "  and 
"  disperse  "  have  none  of  the  connection  and  se- 
quence that  "  ertrinken  "  and  "  versinken  "  have, 
except  the  rhyme.  And  "  wittingless  "  is  a  brainless 

80 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

bauble  intrusion  of  the  kin  of  Wamba,  serf  of  Ced- 
ric  the  Saxon. 

Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  sugges- 
tion that  the  drama  be  translated  into  French.  The 
difficulties,  however,  would  be  similar.  Besides 
which,  the  spirit  of  French,  its  genius,  or  whatever 
it  is  that  gives  any  language  atmosphere,  is  more 
alien  even  than  that  of  English.  The  theme  of 
Tristan  und  Isolde  as  conceived  by  Wagner  is 
especially  beyond  French  expression.  The  transla- 
tion becomes  sharp,  polished,  pretty,  at  times  even 
flippant.  Such  impression  has  not  merely  a  surface 
origin  in  yellow  paper  covered  books.  It  goes 
deeper.  In  considering  a  language  the  style  is  the 
people.  The  emotions  of  Wagner's  Tristan  are 
not  of  the  French.  Taine  is  enlightening:  'The 
bent  of  the  French  character  makes  of  love  not  a 
passion  but  a  gay  banquet,  tastefully  arranged,  in 
which  the  service  is  elegant,  the  food  exquisite,  the 
silver  brilliant,  the  two  guests  in  full  dress,  in  good 
humor,  quick  to  anticipate  and  please  each  other, 
knowing  how  to  keep  up  the  gayety,  and  when  to 
part." 

Of  the  five  French  versions,  that  of  Le  Comte  de 
Chambrun  is  admittedly  unsingable,  and  that  of 
Wilder  has  been  discarded  as  impossibly  crude  and 
inaccurate.  D'Offoel  insists  that  his  is  for  singing 
only.  His  excuse  accuses :  when  the  words  are  sung, 
he  says,  their  imperfections,  only  too  apparent  when 
read,  will  disappear  or  at  least  seem  slighter.  The 

81 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

implied  license  enables  him  to  conform  fairly  well 
with  the  music.  Lyon's  is  a  linear  prose  transla- 
tion, too  literal  to  be  idiomatic,  poetic,  or  musically 
sensible.  That  of  Ernst  is  the  least  unsatisfactory. 
But  though  his  work  is  sufficiently  careful,  it  is  quite 
impossible  to  consider  it  as  anything  more  than  a 
correct  French  gloss.  How  disillusioning  seems 
Isolde's  Liebestod,  how  matter  of  fact,  when  she 
can  give  so  precise  an  account  of  it  as :  "  Dans  la  Vie 
souffle  immense  du  Tout,  me  perdre,  m'eteindre,  sans 
pensee,  toute  Joie !  "  That's  all.  ( Lyon's  is :  "  Me 
nouer,  Disparaitre,  Inconsciente,  Supreme  volupte !  " 
D'OffoeTs:  "  se  perdre,  se  fondre,  sans  pensee,  —  6 
bonheur!  ")  The  dramatic  concepts  lose  their  con- 
notation. "  Wahn  "  becomes  either  "  L'erreur  "  or 
"Aveugle";  "  gottlich  ew'ges  Ur-Vergessen "  in 
Lyon's  translation  is  "  Du  divin,  eternel,  primitif 
oubli";  in  D'OffoeTs:  "  1'oubli  divin,  total,  su- 
preme." Ernst's  is  "  que  1'oubli  divin  sans  bornes  " ; 
and  of  "  Ich  war  wo  ich  von  je  gewesen  " :  "  J'etais 
aux  sources  de  mon  etre."  Good  enough  perhaps 
as  science,  but  hardly  as  poetry. 

More  detailed  consideration  can  profit  little. 
Whether  in  English  or  in  French  a  translation  can 
give  merely  the  lifeless  substance  of  what  in  the 
original  is  the  greatest  of  music  dramas.  The  char- 
acters are  mechanical  contrivances  singing  mechan- 
ically contrived  words.  They  are  not  the  characters 
Wagner  conceived,  "  nicht  mehr  Isolde,  nicht  mehr 
Tristan."  None  of  the  translations  is  really  deserv- 
ing of  any  serious  criticism.  And  their  exposition 

82 


"  NICHT  MEHR  TRISTAN  " 

here  is  in  part  to  indicate  to  such  as  may  want  to 
venture  again  upon  so  arid  and  waste  an  undertak- 
ing the  unhappy  fate  of  those  who  perished  before 
them.  The  main  concern  is  of  course  the  suffering 
that  may  be  inflicted  upon  the  audience.  It  is  sin- 
cerely to  be  hoped  that  any  proposed  text  will  be 
submitted  at  least  on  the  typograph  for  general  in- 
spection before  it  is  made  into  the  great  and  inflex- 
ible, almost  permanently  fixed,  record  that  is  an 
opera  company's  performance.  What  the  verdict 
would  be  it  is  fairly  safe  to  foretell.  And  if  the 
musical  setting  could  be  added  and  we  could  try  out 
the  "  record  "  at  close  range,  there  could  be  no  doubt 
about  it. 


4 
PARSIFOLLIES 


PARSIFOLLIES 

AFTER  leaping  in  vain  for  distant  clusters  it  is 
natural  enough  for  the  lowbrow  to  grimace 
and  say  the  rare  fruit  is  sour.  The  comedy  is  good. 
Better  still,  though,  is  the  spectacle  of  the  highbrow, 
the  scorner  of  the  common  garden  varieties,  trying, 
when  his  judgment  has  led  him  far  afield,  to  keep 
from  making  faces  while  vowing  ecstatically  that  the 
sour  fruit  is  rare. 

It  is  the  more  instructive,  too.  For  it  is  a  dis- 
tinctly human  performance,  an  achievement  in  re- 
pression. It  is  another  victory  over  the  eager  in- 
sistence of  the  senses;  another  triumph  of  mind  over 
matter. —  It  is  suggestive  of  how  civilization  will 
swallow  much  that  tastes  bad  and  at  the  same  time 
beam  in  a  superior  sort  of  way.  It  points  to  man's 
development  as  the  attainment  of  muscular  control. 
Behind,  let  there  be  whatever  nausea  or  ennui  or  lust 
you  please.  Suppress  it,  conceal  it,  delay  it.  Just 
now 

"  Guizot  receives  Montalembert ! 
Eh ?     Down  the  court  three  lampions  flare: 
Put  forward  your  best  foot !  " 

Education  in  large  measure  apparently  aims  to 
control  childhood's  reactive  tendencies  to  make  wry 
faces  over  unsweetened  fruit.  All  but  the  most 

8? 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

flagrantly  matter  of  fact  learn  the  trick  with  sur- 
prising willingness.  And  presently  they  are  dis- 
posed to  praise  the  superior  flavor,  implying  of 
course  a  tribute  to  their  own  superior  judgment. 
Such  often  heard  lament  as  is  sounded,  for  example, 
over  popular  disgust  for  literary  classics  because 
they  are  made  compulsory  reading  at  school,  is 
surely  more  dolorous  than  there  is  cause  for.  While 
surrounded  by  his  suffering  peers  no  doubt  every 
social  instinct  prompts  the  student  to  traditional  dis- 
affection. But  away  from  them  he  soon  finds  the 
mark  of  culture  to  which  mere  straight  faced  endur- 
ance entitles  him,  a  rather  coveted  attainment;  and 
he  accordingly  accepts  it  as  his.  And  as  relish  is  just 
as  much  the  result  as  the  cause  of  glad  smacking  of 
the  lips,  he  is  much  more  often  a  polite  admirer  of 
high  art  than  is  generally  admitted. 

The  wrong  done  by  our  expositors  of  classics  is 
more  likely,  in  fact,  to  be  the  fostering  of  a  priggish 
veneration  of  every  Master.  They  carry  on  the 
Prussian  ideals  of  their  post-graduate  courses. 
Everything  done  by  The  Master  must  command 
your  respect.  As  a  test  of  your  scholarship  you 
must  become  prop  and  pillar  for  some  work  of  his. 
And  since  every  great  work  of  The  Master  by  this 
time  is  amply  supported  —  many  a  massive  doctorial 
crown  for  want  of  more  substantial  load  proudly 
thrusting  itself  under  fragments  of  the  structure  such 
as  The  Master  probably  never  suspected  of  exist- 
ence: his  fondness,  say,  for  amphibrach  equivalence 
in  his  prose  rhythm,  or  his  aversion  to  the  preterite 

88 


PARSIFOLLIES 

tense  in  adverbial  clauses  of  concession  —  you  must 
needs  unearth  whatever  mercifully  dustladen  work 
bears  the  great  Name,  reek  though  it  may  of  mor- 
tality. 

In  the  foreword  we  are  perhaps  warned  to  hold 
our  nostrils.  But  then  we  have  the  satisfaction  of 
having  before  us  The  Complete  Works  Of  The 
Master.  The  title  gives  both  intellectual  and  ma- 
terial assurance:  it  promises  omniscience  and  maxi- 
mum value  received.  What  the  effect  is  of  the  al- 
ready rotting  material  upon  the  fresh  and  vigorous, 
is  of  lesser  concern.  And,  besides,  our  grubbing  ex- 
cavators assure  us  that  we  must  go  through  all  of 
a  man's  works  to  get  the  correct  estimate  of  him. 
Which  correct  estimate,  we  must  believe,  gives 
greater  joy  than  the  really  alive  productions  them- 
selves possibly  can. 

Thus  Complete  Works  multiply  and  become  ac- 
credited additions  to  the  storehouse  of  culture.  The 
embalmed  and  resurrected  things  in  them  are  cer- 
tainly shrewd  nemesic  visitations  upon  us  for  our 
frequent  neglect  of  The  Master's  fine  works  when 
they  appeared.  There  is  the  case  of  our  finding 
ourselves  finding  intellectual  delight  in  Browning's 
Red  Cotton  Nightcap  Country,  when  a  few  decades 
before,  Bells  and  Pomegranates  seemed  unimpor- 
tant. There  is  the  case  of  our  following  as  upon 
an  esoteric  pilgrimage  George  Meredith's  Victor 
Radnor  in  his  endeavor  to  shoulder  his  way  through 
the  social  and  psychological  mists  on  London  Bridge, 
after  we  had  ignored  the  magic  carpet  wonders  that 

89 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

we  could  mount  with  Shibli  Bagarag,  the  Shaver  of 
Shagpat. 

There  is  the  case  of  Parsifal  — 

For  one  thing,  that  was  a  famous  masterpiece  be- 
fore it  had  been  produced.  You  were  to  witness 
Wagner's  latest,  naturally  his  greatest.  If  you  were 
at  all  enlightened  you  believed  in  Wagner  by  that 
time.  So  that  you  knew  beforehand  you  had  to  be 
thrilled  and  exalted.  Thrilled  and  exalted  you  ac- 
cordingly were. 

Then  the  play  had  not  been  easy  to  procure.  It 
was  a  legally  hard  won  treasure.  It  had  been 
snatched  from  a  secluded  little  town  in  Bavaria.  It 
had  been  plucked  from  Frau  Cosima's  tender  bosom. 
It  had  been  ravished  from  a  holy  nunnery  and 
brought  to  Broadway.  Naturally  you  felt  it  was 
something  precious,  something  lofty,  something  your 
gross  senses  were  unworthy  to  perceive  and  should 
ardently  aspire  to  comprehend. 

There  is  another  curse  upon  it,  even  greater :  the 
incidents  —  regard  them  though  we  should  as  mere 
medieval  legend,  ingenious  fabric  spun  by  Malory, 
Wolfram,  Chretien,  and  the  rest  —  do  give  the  effect 
of  a  religious  performance.  Now  the  presentation 
of  Parsifal  the  Savior  may  be  regarded  in  two  ways. 
It  may  be  denounced  as  sacrilegious,  than  which 
contingency  the  producers  could  desire  nothing  bet- 
ter, to  judge  by  the  consequent  astonishing  interest 
in  the  first  performance  of  the  music  drama  in  Amer- 
ica. For  interdiction  can  lend  mighty  seductive 

90 


PARSIFOLLIES 

charm  to  a  good  deal  of  homeliness  of  wit  or  feature. 
Or,  the  performance  may  be  proclaimed  sacred;  and 
then  who  can  possibly  admit  any  consideration  of 
whether  it  is  stupid  or  ugly?  Religion  remains 
prudently  beyond  such  merciless  interrogation.  In 
either  case  Parsifal  is  quite  acceptable  as  minister  to 
the  hosts  that  visit  him :  for,  if  he  runs  short  of  for- 
bidden fruit,  he  can  always  dispense  sacramental 
bread  and  wine. 

It  is  an  unfair  advantage,  of  course.  It  is  the 
same  advantage  as  preserves  so  many  irreverently 
ugly  hymns,  and  allows  prints  to  be  made  of  God- 
heads that  are  blasphemous  of  line  and  color.  Even 
modern  criticism,  on  guard  with  sharp  beak  and 
talon,  stands  uneasily  aside  to  let  the  supposedly 
pious  matter  pass.  There  is  an  endless  procession 
of  amazingly  bad  religious  writing  and  playing  and 
painting.  And  connivance  is  the  sop  the  critic 
throws  to  St.  Peter. 

When  the  hot  controversy  over  Parsifal  in 
1903  did  set  in,  it  was  based  on  doubts  as  to  its 
religious  propriety.  As  a  story,  it  was  contended, 
Wagner's  play  was  satisfactory  enough:  but  was  it 
good  theology?  The  spectator  to-day  is  disposed  to 
accept  it  as  orthodox  enough :  but,  he  asks,  is  it  good 
drama?  The  cry  of  sacrilege!  is  a  not  unprece- 
dented objection  by  the  church  to  a  rival  perform- 
ance of  its  rites,  attended  as  this  one  has  been  at  the 
Metropolitan  with  so  much  greater  occasional 
beauty.  The  bitterness  of  mother  church  over  the 
frivolity  of  that  daughter  of  hers  that  is  the  modern 

91 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

stage,  or  perhaps  rather  over  the  enviable  popu- 
larity of  the  hussy,  has  been  felt  since  the  days  of 
miracle  and  mystery  performances,  when  the  young 
upstart  boldly  left  the  too,  too  rigidly  worshipful 
maternal  home,  and  —  followed  even  then  by  the 
delighted  crowd  —  set  up  her  own  establishment. 
The  first  clerical  outbreak  against  Parsifal  was 
most  natural;  so  also  was  the  gradual  relenting  and 
reconciliation,  whereby,  as  through  so  many  other 
tolerations,  the  distance  from  the  secular  is  meant  to 
be  bridged,  and  the  laity  expected  to  come  across. 

Thus  the  Parsifal  ritual  has  become  quite  accept- 
able. But  the  thrill  of  witnessing,  if  not  a  diabol- 
ical spectacle,  at  least  a  revelation  of  heavily  veiled 
Bayreuth  esotery,  having  dissipated,  more  eyes  and 
ears  became  keener.  Critical  voices  grew  louder. 
Devotees  protested  overwhelmingly:  the  setting 
ought  to  be  considered,  the  lofty  purpose;  it  is  a 
Biihnenweihfestspiel,  a  stage-consecrating-festival- 
play;  it  is  a  mystic  and  symbolic  performance;  it  is 
the  Master's  Masterpiece.  Still  criticism  persisted. 
The  dullness  of  church  service  was  a  different  thing 
altogether:  you  knew  that  that  was  for  your  soul's 
good;  it  was  not  a  question,  therefore,  of  interest 
or  boredom.  Here  you  had  come  to  be  entertained; 
you  had  paid  a  high  price  for  admission;  you  were 
at  the  opera. 

The  devotees,  however,  are  well  organized.  All 
such  cults  are.  They  challenge  the  doubtful  on- 
looker: he  must  be  with  them  or  against  them. 
They  give  abundant  evidence  of  requiring  superior 

92 


PARSIFOLLIES 

mental  qualifications  for  admission.  They  make  it 
understood  that  the  confirmed  outsider  is  lacking. 
They  stamp  his  brow  as  decidedly  high  or  low. 

The  Parsifal  cult  is  especially  formidable.  It 
foregathers  in  masonic  solemnity.  It  will  have  the 
newcomer  understand  that  the  occasion  is  not  for 
mere  entertainment.  It  insists  that  he  glare  and 
hiss  if  he  hear  anyone  applaud.  It  is  proudly  con- 
scious of  the  long  session,  the  slow  proceedings.  It 
looks  about  with  assurance  at  the  distinguished  au- 
dience, absorbed,  impressed,  elated.  If  the  exoteric 
is  bored,  he  has  failed  to  grasp  the  inner  significance, 
the  symbolic  values.  Accordingly  he  plunges  for 
inner  significance.  He  leaps  for  fruits  of  symbolic 
wisdom.  He  keeps  from  making  faces,  while  vow- 
ing ecstatically  that  the  sour  fruit  is  rare. 

To  little  avail,  therefore,  has  sensible  criticism 
repeatedly  told  in  the  frankest  way  of  how  compara- 
tively unpalatable  the  Festspiel  really  is,  as  drama, 
as  music,  as  religion.  The  meagerness  of  action 
matters  little.  There  is  even  less  stage  business 
in  Tristan.  What  is  lacking  is  the  dramatic  and 
musical  intensity  with  which  nothing  happens  on  the 
stage  in  the  really  great  music  dramas.  The  first 
and  the  third  acts  are  at  times  simply  wearisome. 
(The  third  act  is  the  more  often  admittedly  so,  pos- 
sibly because  the  spectator  has  had  to  remain  exalted 
for  three  or  four  hours  and  finds  his  wings  failing 
him;  possibly  because  its  only  impressive  part,  the 
Sacrament  of  the  Last  Supper, —  witnessed  by  the 
audience  with  a  reverence  that  has  nothing  to  do 

93 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

with  the  merit  of  the  play  —  is  a  repetition  of  the 
first  act;  possibly,  too,  because  it  follows  the  only 
really  splendid  scene  in  the  play.)  The  few  epi- 
sodes there  are  seem  trivial  or  insincere.  The  swan 
scene  is  pathetic  only  in  its  revelation  of  Wagner's 
warped  judgment.  "  The  dead  fowl,"  Mr.  Huneker 
once  said,  "  is  borne  away  on  its  litter  of  twigs  to 
impressive  music  like  a  feathered  Siegfried. —  Surely 
Wagner  was  without  a  sense  of  humor,  or  was  he 
parodying  his  own  Death  of  Siegfried  as  Ibsen  paro- 
died Ibsen  in  Wild  Duck?"  The  basis  for  the 
change  of  scene  in  the  first  act  is  thick  metaphysical 
smoke:  "  Du  siehst  mein  Sohn,"  says  Gurnemanz  to 
Parsifal,  "  zum  Raum  wird  hier  die  Zeit  "  (u  You 
see,  my  son,  how  here  time  changes  with  space.") 
Parsifal  was  a  pure  fool  to  listen  to  stuff  like  that. 
Then  his  expulsion  from  the  temple  is  quite  inconse- 
quential, and  is  rather  to  the  discredit  of  the  Order 
of  the  Grail.  The  Klingsor  evocations  are  musical 
and  histrionic  rubbish.  One  cannot  help  remember- 
ing the  consummate  art  with  which  Loge  is  called 
forth  in  Die  Walkilre,  and  Erda  in  Siegfried.  The 
baptismal  transactions  in  the  third  act,  the  lav- 
ing and  anointment  and  Magdalene  rubbing  down 
of  Parsifal's  feet,  is  unconvincing  and  dramatically 
illogical.  The  best  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  Kun- 
dry  has  a  heaven  of  hair  and  that  Mme.  Fremstad 
knows  how  to  sway  it  with  disturbing  grace.  Am- 
fortas'  exhibition  of  his  naked  wound  is  really  not 
decent;  and  rather  superfluous  after  his  lengthy 
groans  and  lamentations.  Titurel's  rising  in  his 

94 


PARSIFOLLIES 

coffin  seems  at  first  a  silly  attempt  at  tribute  to  the 
Grail;  and  thinking  more  precisely  on  the  event 
turns  it  into  a  repulsive  Lazarus  occasion. 

The  characters  are  as  unattractive  as  the  story. 
The  villain  is  emasculated  physically,  the  hero  spirit- 
ually. There  is  the  wailing  invalid  brought  on  a 
litter  from  one  wing,  and  from  another  that  living 
corpse  in  his  coffin.  One  more  of  the  same  sex 
completes  their  tale:  an  insufferably  long-winded 
individual,  an  unpunctured  Polonius  creature,  end- 
lessly descanting  notes,  notes,  notes.  These  five, 
with  a  number  of  utterly  wooden  figures  that  march 
in  and  out,  are  all  we  see  by  way  of  male  beings  in 
the  drama.  The  absence  among  them  of  all  but  one 
woman,  and  she  denatured,  in  hardly  surprising. 

If  these  men  by  their  monomania  and  lock  step 
discipline  were  at  least  beyond  ordinary  human  frail- 
ties, they  might  be  tolerated  as  beyond  ordinary  hu- 
man criteria.  But  they  are  a  decidedly  every  day 
lot;  much  of  what  they  say  is  mean  and  stupid. 
The  day  begins  with  Gurnemanz's  awakening  two 
youths  and  upbraiding  them  with  dull  sarcasm  for 
their  sleepiness.  He  irritates  by  at  first  ignoring 
the  questions  the  youths  ask  him  regarding  Klingsor, 
and  then  he  exasperates  by  letting  forth  the  wordy 
inflictions  that  are  his  answers.  The  young  men 
are  apt  pupils:  they  proceed  to  mock  the  exhausted 
and  unsightly  Kundry  who  has  cast  herself  on  the 
ground.  Whereupon  their  mentor,  with  character- 
istic obtuseness,  takes  them  to  task  (though  later  on 
he  himself  calls  her,  according  to  the  present  version 

95 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

of  the  play,  "You  crackbrain'd  drudge!  ")  Then 
when  Parsifal  appears  bow  in  hand,  it  is  again  their 
inning.  "Strafe  den  Frevler!"  they  cry  with  a 
vehemence  not  altogether  worthy  of  guardians  of 
the  Grail.  And  the  King  too  for  that  matter,  con- 
scious though  his  agony  makes  him  every  moment 
of  his  frailty,  flares  up  when  he  hears  that  Gawan 
left  to  seek  another  balsam:  "  Ohn'  Urlaub?  — 
Moge  das  er  siihnen!  "  ("  Without  permission?  — 
He'll  get  his  for  that !  " )  And  so  to  the  end  of  the 
act  when  poor  Parsifal,  who  hasn't  said  a  word,  is 
seized  by  Gurnemanz  (who  is  again  in  an  ugly  mood 
and  again  perpetrates  a  feeble  attempt  at  sarcasm) 
and  thrust  out  of  doors. —  Whereupon  the  temple 
resounds  with  the  magnificent  tripartite  choric  re- 
sponse : 

Knaben:  Selig  im  Glauben! 

Junglinge:  Selig  in  Liebe! 

Alle  Ritter:  Selig  im  Glauben  und  Liebe! 

There  obtrudes  then  through  this  cold  cloistral 
atmosphere  the  more  interesting  disharmony  heard 
when  Alberich  confronts  his  brother,  or  Siegfried 
his  guardian,  or  Wotan  his  wife,  or  —  the  more 
hard  hitting  the  puppets  the  merrier  the  showman 
—  the  good  burghers  of  Niirnberg  one  another.  A 
devoutly  loving  brotherhood  would  have  been  des- 
perately dreary.  "  All  is  love,  yet  all's  law,"  settles 
the  matter  as  far  as  we  are  concerned.  We  reach 
for  our  hat  and  coat.  Even  Wagner's  pious  knights 
evidently  find  the  sanctity  oppressive. 

96 


PARSIFOLLIES 

Wagner's  failure  to  make  the  tyranny  of  goodness 
convincing  is  no  worse  than  Milton's.  The  Bava- 
rian rebel  is  as  little  at  home  in  it  as  is  the 
Commonwealth  Puritan.  In  both  Parsifal  and 
Paradise  Lost  there  is  much  hailing  of  holy  light. 
In  both  works  God  is  light.  And  in  both, 
the  "  Bright  effluence  of  bright  essence  increate  " 
seems  to  stupefy  those  within  its  reach.  What 
makes  Paradise  Lost  so  immeasurably  superior  in 
interest,  is  that  Milton  finds  expression  for  the 
mighty  wrath  that  was  his  against  the  presumption 
of  the  Jovian  Jehovah,  in  his  Prometheus-Satan. 
Wagner,  his  judgment  heavily  overcast  by  the  doc- 
trine of  Will  to  Impotence,  repressed  as  far  as  he 
could  his  artistic  convictions,  and  believed  he  thereby 
created  a  sacred  drama.  Fortunately  he  still  had 
something  of  Milton's  abandon.  He  permitted 
Klingsor  to  create  the  one  beautiful  scene  in  the  play. 
"  Die  Wiiste  schuf  er  sich  zum  Wonnegarten." 
And  the  crowded  loveliness  of  girls  and  music  and 
setting  shows  where  Wagner's  sympathies  were. 
His  other  scenes  are  by  contrast  bare.  Occasionally 
his  inhibition  even  there  fails,  as  when  the  orchestra 
revels  in  Amfortas'  notice  of  "  Waldes-Morgen- 
pracht,"  or  when  it  reflects  the  swan  circling  over 
the  lake,  "  sein  Weibchen  zu  suchen."  At  such  mo- 
ments we  hear  echoes  of  Siegfried  music.  There 
are  wistful  recollections  of  the  other  dramas,  of 
Rhine  maidens  and  galloping  Valkyries  and  all  the 
marvelous  things  that  happened  when  the  more  in- 
dulgent god  Wotan  ruled.  But  in  the  main  the 

97 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

words  and  actions  of  the  Grail  knights  are  set  to  a 
somber  or  barren  score.  Wagner  could  hardly  hope 
to  be  more  successful  than  Milton  in  trying  to  avoid 
making  holiness  a  negative  quality,  an  absence  of 
everything  that  gives  delight.  The  creation  of  the 
magic  garden  as  the  place  of  sin  became  accordingly 
a  most  grateful  duty,  zealously  performed.  The 
artist  in  Milton  revolted  against  his  dull  theme  and 
found  refuge  in  Hell's  temple,  "  where  pilasters 
round  Were  set,  and  Doric  pillars  overlaid  With 
golden  architrave."  The  artist  in  Wagner  found 
it,  if  only  momentarily,  in  the  Zaubergarten. 

But  then  Klingsor  is  no  Satan.  He  might  at 
least  have  been  a  conventionally  heroic  figure,  a 
champion  of  freedom  against  church  and  kingship, 
of  nature  against  monastic  seclusion,  of  beauty 
against  asceticism.  But  he  is  not  even  a  man.  He 
is  a  ridiculous  operatic  contrivance,  without  even  its 
wire  pulled  logic.  Perhaps  Wagner  did  not  dare 
make  him  otherwise:  for  Parsifal  had  sufficient  dif- 
ficulties to  contend  with,  as  it  was,  for  his  feeble 
head. 

And  yet  against  dullness  we  know  the  gods 
themselves  are  powerless.  Wagner  must  have  felt 
that  he  could  safely  do  his  best  in  trying  to  tempt 
the  untemptable.  Let  Kundry  ever  so  subtly  draw 
him  towards  her  by  her  introductory  maternal  ap- 
peal, let  her  voice  plead  with  no  matter  how  golden 
an  opulence,  let  her  blandish  ever  so  much  loveliness 
—  and  Kundry  has  a  heaven  of  hair  and  Mme. 
Fremstad  knows  how  to  sway  it  with  unspeakable 

98 


PARSIFOLLIES 

grace  —  Parsifal  is  as  safe  as  if  she  were  Potiphar's 
wife.  And  so  all  that  the  rules  of  the  Templars 
forbade  him  to  write  elsewhere  in  the  play,  Wagner 
here  eagerly  lets  forth. 

The  destruction  of  all  this  beauty,  that  Monsalvat 
might  continue  in  safety  to  intone  the  Dresden 
Amen,  is  scant  poetic  justice.  To  make  Parsifal  by 
the  sign  of  the  cross  bring  about  its  transformation 
into  a  dusty  heap  of  ruins  is  downright  sacrilege. 
How  keen  by  contrast  is  Ibsen's  understanding  of  the 
issues  here  bungled,  when  he  exhibits  the  Emperor 
Julian  sacrificing  a  goose  to  the  dung-covered  statue 
of  Cybele  and  expecting  thereby  to  restore  Hellen- 
ism. Parsifal,  also,  sacrifices  a  fowl,  but  Wagner 
in  all  seriousness  will  have  us  believe  that  he  was 
thereby  made  the  instrument  for  restoring  mediaeval 
Christianity.  Had  Kundry's  kiss  brought  him  any 
real  enlightenment  he  would  have  sought  a  third 
empire,  neither  Klingsor's  nor  Amfortas',  founded 
neither  on  the  tree  of  knowledge  nor  on  the  tree  of 
the  cross.  He  would  have  exclaimed  at  the  end  of 
the  second  act  when  he  saw  the  flower  girls  lying 
withered  in  the  dust:  "  Your  God  is  a  prodigal  God, 
Galileans  !  He  uses  up  many  souls  !  "  Had  he  per- 
sisted in  his  Quixotic  attempt  to  restore  a  dead  order, 
as  Julian  did  astride  his  scrawny  treatises,  he  should 
have  been  cut  down,  as  was  Julian,  by  the  Roman's 
spear  from  Golgotha,  instead  of  being  allowed  to 
brandish  it  with  that  devastating  effect.  And  then 
he  would  have  been,  like  Julian,  "  a  rod  of  chastise- 
ment,—  not  unto  death,  but  unto  resurrection."  As 

99 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

it  was,  he  lived  to  be  the  instrument  for  preserving 
the  deadness  of  the  dogma  of  Atonement  from  de- 
composing and  yielding  new  life. 

What  makes  the  case  even  more  hopeless  is  that 
there  is  here  no  prescribed  necessity,  no  a  priori 
formula  that  to  will  is  to  have  to  will.  Parsifal  is 
supposed  to  be  as  free  an  agent  as  is  Siegfried. 
Considering  the  similarity  of  their  experiences  it 
seems  impossible  to  avoid  the  conclusion  that  one  is 
nothing  but  a  burlesque  of  the  other.  Both  Sieg- 
fried and  Parsifal  were  brought  up  in  ignorance  of 
fear:  the  former  that  he  might  boldly  encounter  his 
adversaries,  the  latter  that  he  might  shun  them. 
Both  wander  away  from  their  homes :  Siegfried  from 
an  ugly  and  malicious  dwarf,  Parsifal  from  his 
mother,  lovely  —  take  it  from  the  orchestra  —  and 
tender  hearted;  Siegfried  that  he  might  meet  with 
adventures  and  find  a  better  companion,  Parsifal 
from  who  knows  what  sudden  notion  in  his  silly 
head.  Thereupon  each  makes  a  weapon  and  goes 
to  battle:  Siegfried  forges  a  marvelous  sword  and 
kills  a  fearful  dragon;  Parsifal  makes  a  bow  of  a 
twig  and  shoots  a  swan.  Then  comes  to  each  of 
them  woman  and  submits  them  to  her  crucible  test. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  windy  suspiration  and  then 
the  love  fires  flare  up.  Siegfried  behaves  himself 
nicely.  At  first  he  trembles  like  a  leaf;  then  when 
he  does  venture  to  awaken  his  lady  with  a  kiss,  his 
endurance  is  admirable,  his  subsequent  contrapuntal 
duet  work  flawless,  his  "  Erwache  Briinnhilde !  Sei 

100 


PARSIFOLLIES 

mein!  "  is  generously  directed  to  the  family  circle 
and  reaches  the  topmost  row.  He  knows  his  busi- 
ness as  grand  opera  tenor.  Parsifal  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  much  more  satisfactory  setting.  His 
lady,  moreover,  is  prepared  for  him.  But  he  is  so 
unresponsive  that  actually  it  is  she  who  has  to  arouse 
him  with  a  kiss.  And  then  instead  of  making 
amends  for  his  remissment  when  he  is  awake,  he 
abuses  her  and  tears  down  the  scenery  and  breaks 
up  the  show. —  Further  travesty  can  be  found  in 
his  spear-worship :  Siegfried  strikes  down  this  sym- 
bol of  interdiction,  thereby  destroying  the  old  order; 
Parsifal  uses  it  as  a  palliative  to  make  that  dismal 
state  endurable.  Siegfried,  again,  is  quite  un- 
daunted by  the  red  glow  sent  by  his  god  to  keep 
him  from  Brunnhilde ;  Parsifal  stands  over-awed  be- 
fore the  incandescent  Grail,  though  Kundry  is  only 
an  arm's  length  away  and  the  orchestra  told  him  in 
ascending  Tristan  chromatics  when  she  anointed 
his  feet,  how  much  she  loves  him.  And  the  crown- 
ing jest  of  the  solemn  parody  will  have  Parsifal  as- 
sume a  kingly  throne,  while  Siegfried  is  brought 
home  on  his  shield  dead. 

The  Parsifal  enthusiast,  of  Wagnerites  the  most 
lofty  of  forehead,  plucks  fruits  of  wisdom  from  the 
served-up  spectacle.  And  throughout  it  he  vows 
with  ungrimacing  countenance  that  the  dish  is  rare. 

But  the  interruption  of  his  feast  by  the  war  may 
have  made  him  more  truly  critical.  He  must  have 
found  the  taste  of  holiness,  at  any  rate,  in  the  Par- 

101 


slfal  repast  somewhat  thin  after  the  discovered 
unholiness  of  its  Teutonic  chef.  Art  dishes  have 
that  elusive  kind  of  flavor  as  a  rule,  and  so  it  is  best 
not  to  trust  your  own  taste.  You  have  to  know 
who  concocted  them  before  you  can  really  judge. 
Better  make  sure,  too,  that  he  comes  from  the  right 
sort  of  country.  There  are  national  ingredients  in 
everything,  even  in  the  most  innocent  seeming  re- 
freshment.—  No,  the  more  truly  critical  verdict 
must  have  been  that  Parsifal  is  acidulous  stuff. 

Still,  it  has  been  found  more  tolerable  than 
such  downright  corrosive  matter  as  fills  the  Ring, 
Tristan,  and  Meistersinger,  for  it  has  been  the 
the  first  of  the  music  dramas  to  be  served  us  after 
the  war.  It  has  had  all  foreign  tang  taken  out  of 
it,  though,  and  instead  has  been  given  sound  native 
flavor.  There  is  nothing  outlandish  about  it  now: 
you  are  satisfied  that  it  is  wholesome  fare.  The 
finicky  and  fastidious  may  grumble  over  it,  but  sen- 
sible folk  are  always  satisfied  to  sit  down  to  a  good 
enough  boiled  New  England  performance.  Now 
that  the  other  dramas  are  properly  done  they  may 
be  dished  up  too. 

Parsifal  must  be  the  most  tolerable  -. — 

It  has  been  the  choice  of  a  people  at  play;  there- 
fore in  many  ways  illuminating.  It  shows  how  in- 
tense has  been  the  general  longing  for  peace.  It  is 
one  fulfillment  of  the  anti-war  vows  made  on  the 
fields  of  France.  It  is  adequate  demonstration  of 
how,  during  the  tumult  and  the  shouting,  the  highest 
joy  conceivable  was  rest  and  quiet. 

102 


PARSIFOLLIES 

"  When  the  war  is  over  and  the  Kaiser's  out  of  print, 
I'm  going  to  buy  some  tortoises  and  watch  the  beggars 

sprint ; 

When  the  war  is  over  and  sword  at  last  we  sheathe, 
I'm  going  to  keep  a  jellyfish  and  listen  to  it  breathe." 

When  the  war  is  over,  Milne  might  have  added, 
he  will  delight  to  hearken  unto  Gurnemanz  ruminat- 
ing over  the  past,  he  will  be  overwhelmed  when  Par- 
sifal shoots  down  a  stuffed  swan,  he  will  be  enrap- 
tured when  after  several  hours  of  persistent  piety 
the  hero  finally  responds  to  Kundry's  love  with  such 
abandon  that  he  "  kisses  her  gently  on  the  fore- 
head." 

It  may  be,  then,  that  Parsifal  was  selected  as 
the  first  of  Wagner's  dramas  to  be  restored  because 
it  is  good  neurotic  post-war  treatment.  It  is  a  safe 
play  for  no  matter  how  upset  nerves.  The  thera- 
peutic practice  of  Parsifal  upon  Amfortas,  resulting 
as  it  does  in  a  complete  cure,  must  produce  a  gen- 
eral salutary  effect.  The  fluttering  dove  at  the  end 
of  the  play  is  a  pertinent  peace  time  assurance. 
Throughout  there  is  a  wholesome  absence  of  strife. 
The  one  encounter  that  does  occur  before  the  walls 
of  Klingsor's  garden  is  considerately  kept  off  the 
stage.  The  play  as  a  whole  upholds  the  comfort- 
ing doctrine  that  purity  of  heart  is  better  than 
strength  of  arm  or  keenness  of  mind,  and  that  stupid- 
ity and  well  meaning  are  the  noblest  virtues.  Neu- 
rologists will  welcome  Parsifal  as  an  excellent 
sedative  against  the  fever  and  the  fret  that  could 

103 


hardly  have  been  avoided  even  in  the  most  business- 
like pursuit  of  a  war. 

The  choice  of  Parsifal  may  also  be  a  conces- 
sion to  censor  and  vice  agent.  The  practice  of  dele- 
tion that  developed  as  a  necessary  wartime  measure, 
became  something  of  a  habit.  It  is  not  an  easy 
thing  to  reform  a  people  once  it  has  become  addicted 
to  the  virtues  based  on  denial.  The  immunity  from 
doubt  and  care  which  negation  brings  is  in  itself 
seductive;  coupled  with  the  incidental  feeling  of 
righteousness  that  interdiction  has  trailed  from 
Sinai,  it  becomes  truly  demoralizing.  Parsifal  is 
a  welcome  flattery  just  now.  It  is  a  tribute  to 
the  suppression  of  tendencies  that  unchecked  would 
lead  to  universal  depravity.  At  the  same  time  part 
of  the  drama  can  really  be  enjoyed,  for  Wagner 
knew  that  temptation  to  be  worth  overcoming  must 
be  made  tempting,  that  repression  ought  to  have 
something  really  alluring  to  repress.  And  it  may 
safely  be  given  public  performance,  for  it  is  clearly 
demonstrated  as  vile  and  pernicious.  In  its  present 
English  version  especially  we  are  not  for  a  moment 
in  doubt.  It  seems  that  when  the  senseless  gloom 
that  persists  for  two  hours  has  at  last  been  dispelled 
by  the  warmth  and  beauty  of  the  girls  in  the  garden, 
Parsifal,  clod  though  he  be,  is  sufficiently  roused  to 
try  to  say  something  pleasant  to  them:  "  Nenn'  ich 
euch  schon,  diinkt  euch  das  recht?  "  Not  so  shock- 
ing a  declaration,  we  used  to  feel,  but  that  it  might 
pass  even  in  a  sacred  drama.  Now,  however,  the 
line  is  turned  into  better  account  than  the  sinful 

104 


PARSIFOLLIES 

flattery  it  expressed.  It  has  been  translated  to: 
"Can  it  be  wrong  to  call  you  fair?"  To  which 
our  conscience,  which  Parsifal  presumably  addresses, 
gives  the  inevitable  positive  reply,  and  forbids  us  to 
regard  the  scene  as  other  than  very,  very  bad. 

Parsifal  has  been  the  choice  of  a  people  at  play; 
illuminating,  therefore,  is  the  part  ascribed  in 
it  to  woman.  Just  what  reactions  Kundry,  who 
assumes  all  the  feminine  roles  of  the  drama,  produces 
upon  those  of  her  sex  it  would  be  curious  to  record. 
(Outwardly,  of  course,  there  is  no  indication  what- 
ever of  anything  unusual,  for  those  who  go  to 
hear  Parsifal  have,  as  a  rule,  achieved  the  utmost 
in  muscular  control.)  Unless  they  disregard  her 
as  fantastic  figment  or  else  label  her  as  all  sorts  of 
abstract  odds  and  ends,  post-war  women  must  writhe 
at  the  successive  insults  her  appearance  on  the  stage 
offers.  Or,  in  a  modern  and  scientific  spirit,  they 
might  consider  her  three  acts  as  historic  representa- 
tions of  so  many  steps  in  their  own  development: 
the  first  act  showing  the  beast  leaping,  groveling  — 
"  wie  ein  wildes  Thier,"  to  quote  one  of  the  promis- 
ing youths  of  Monsalvat;  the  second  act  representing 
the  perfected  female  creature,  conscious  of  her  sex 
power,  inflicting  it  with  zest  and  cunning;  the  third 
act  portraying  the  humble  beginnings  of  the  pre- 
modern  era,  the  state  of  man's  servingwoman  who 
had  no  other  aspiration  than  the  domestic's 
"DienenI  Dienen!  " 

The  heights  from  which  these  pitiful  proceedings 
now  can  be  viewed  by  emancipated  woman,  should 

105 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITB 

make  their  effect  most  gratifying.  What  is  offen- 
sive in  the  Kundry  expositions  would  then  be  mere 
emanation  from  musty  treatises  on  sociology,  the 
swampy  fog  that  would  set  in  radiant  relief  the  ris- 
ing sun  of  to-day. 

Interpretation  like  this  may  explain  why  this  one 
of  all  Wagner's  heroines  was  the  first  to  return  here. 
Obviously  the  true  spectator  does  not  find  interest 
in  her  for  what  she  appears  to  be  on  the  stage.  He 
sees  and  hears  more  than  the  anomaly  of  dienstmad- 
chen-fille  de  joie  of  his  eyes  and  ears.  Kundry  was 
the  last  of  the  wonderful  Wagnerian  women:  he 
must  find  other  aspects  than  his  senses  perceive. 

And  so  the  serious  Wagnerite  reaches  for  ulterior 
meanings.  He  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  what  is 
obvious  and  close  at  hand.  Instead  he  plucks  mys- 
tic and  symbolic  conceptions;  and  with  highly  civil- 
ized muscular  control  he  vows  that  they  are  rare. 


106 


IN  WHICH  THE  MAYOR  OF  NEW  YORK,  AS  BEFITS  THE 

CHIEF  MAGISTRATE  OF  THE  MOST  MUSICAL  OF 

CITIES,  CONDUCTS  AN  INQUIRY  INTO  THE 

POPULAR  OUTBREAK  AGAINST  AN 

OPERA     COMPANY'S     CRIMINAL 

ABUSE  OF  TEMPO  RUB  A  TO  IN 

DIE  MEISTERSINGER 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

Excerpts  from  the  New   York  Press  of 
Oct.  21, 


New  York  Times: 

Opera  in  German  —  Several  Injured  in  Fights. 

.  .  .  The  first  organized  demonstration  against  the  opera 
was  led  by  about  200  ex-service  men.  .  .  .  After  the  charge 
a  marine  .  .  .  lay  injured  in  the  street.  He  was  taken  in 
an  ambulance  to  Flower  Hospital.  ...  A  score  of  men,  in- 
cluding soldiers  and  sailors  were  treated  in  drug  stores.  .  .  . 
A  woman,  who  called  herself  "  Carrie  Nation,"  got  through 
the  police  lines  and  delivered  an  inflammatory  speech  to  the 
police,  asking  them  to  show  their  Americanism  by  stopping 
the  opera.  ...  A  huge  piece  of  masonry,  thrown  from  a 
building  across  the  way  .  .  .  crashed  into  the  street  in  front 
of  the  theater.  ...  In  a  free-for-all  fight  .  .  .  the  crowd 
threw  milk  bottles  and  stones  at  the  police.  .  .  . 

A  dramatic  two-hour  debate  was  held  before  the  Mayor 
in  the  Board  of  Estimate  rooms  at  City  Hall.  Max  D. 
Steuer  appeared  .  .  .  for  the  German  opera  lovers.  .  .  . 

The  opera  company  gave  a  shocking  performance  of  the 
prelude  to  Die  Meister  -singer  .  .  .  Sheer  incapacity  on  the 
part  of  the  orchestra  alone  would  account  for  what  Mr. 
Spiering,  an  excellent  musician,  fought  in  vain  to  prevent. 

The  World: 

Mounted  Police  Charge  Crowds  in  Front  of  Theater  — 
Shots  Fired  —  Scalps  Cut  —  Mayor  at  Hearing. 

Riots,  fights,  pistol  shots  and  other  acts  of  violence  re- 

109 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

suited  from  the  first  performance  of  German  opera  since  the 
war.  The  performance  was  given  by  the  Star  Opera  Com- 
pany in  the  Lexington  Theater.  The  accompanying  novel- 
ties were  staged  in  the  streets  around  the  auditorium. 

The  Tribune: 

German  Opera  Is  Sung  as  Police  Battle  with  Mob. 

Hundreds  of  policemen  repelled  charging  masses  of  sol- 
diers, sailors,  marines  and  civilians,  some  of  whom  attacked 
from  behind  the  American  flag.  ..."  Let's  go,"  shouted 
some  one,  and  the  crowd  took  it  up  in  a  deep-throated  bellow. 
.  .  .  Roaring  incoherent  threats,  the  mob  surged  forward. 
...  There  was  a  clatter  of  hoofs  up  the  avenue.  .  .  . 
Mounted  police  charged  down,  their  nightsticks  swinging 
high  .  .  .  clove  through  the  midst,  the  foot  policemen  fol- 
lowing hard  on  the  heels  of  the  horses.  .  .  .  Throughout 
the  evening  the  thrilling  tattoo  of  the  nightstick  resounded. 
.  .  .  The  rioters  became  animated  with  a  more  vicious  spirit. 
.  .  .  They  took  to  throwing  milk  bottles,  dropping  stones 
from  the  roofs.  .  .  . 

For  three  hours  in  the  afternoon  the  Mayor  conducted  a 
public  hearing  on  a  petition  .  .  .  that  the  opera  be  stopped. 

The  Evening  Post: 

Mayor  Orders  Police  to  Stop  Singing  of  German  Opera. 

Action  by  the  city  officials  to-day,  following  a  night  of 
riots  at  the  production  of  Wagner's  Die  Meistersinger  at 
the  Lexington  Avenue  Theater.  .  .  . 

The  performance  began  with  the  Meistersinger  overture, 
rough,  heavy  and  rigid  as  a  crowbar. 

The  Globe: 

The  orchestra  immediately  proved  itself  both  one  of  the 
most  inadequate  and  one  of  the  most  obstreperous  ever  gath- 

110 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

ered  together.     Perhaps  the  worst  performance  of  the  prel- 
ude to  Die  Meistersinger  as  yet  achieved.  .  .  . 


THE  militant  crowds  that  arrived  from  all  direc- 
tions gave  promise  of  as  spirited  a  perform- 
ance outside  the  New  Opera  House  as  the  most  ar- 
dent Wagnerian  could  have  desired  within.  There 
was  every  indication  of  exemplary  concerted  action, 
of  utmost  individual  self-sacrifice  to  attain  a  common 
glorious  purpose.  The  warlike  atmosphere,  in  fact, 
was  of  that  inevitable  kind  which  only  the  harshest 
reality  can  produce,  and  beside  which  the  most  artis- 
tic breathes  of  hothouse  culture.  There  might  be 
here  and  there  an  occasional  lapse  in  pitch  or  tempo; 
and  a  certain  colossal  formlessness  of  structure ;  but 
that  was  because  the  conflict,  unlike  the  miniature 
imitation  (in  the  Aristotelian  sense)  before  the  foot- 
lights, could  not  possibly  be  seen  clearly  nor  seen 
whole. 

In  its  general  nature  the  performance  without  the 
New  Opera  House  might  well  have  borne  compari- 
son with  at  least  one  scene  intended  upon  the  stage 
withip.  It  began  with  taunts  and  deprecations, 
crescendo  poco  a  poco  into  rich  unharmonic  rever- 
berations of  anger,  drove  into  a  furious  acclaim  of 
defiance  with  staccato  accompaniment  of  thumping 
bricks  and  cymbal  effects  of  crashing  bottles,  and 
rumbled  louder  with  a  thunder  dreadful  as  that 
heard  of  yore  when  the  Manhattan  Opera  House 
produced  The  Damnation  of  Faust.  Die  Meis- 
tersinger was  to  be  given  its  second  performance 

in 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

by  the  New  Opera  Company  that  night.  If  the 
action  on  the  stage  would  surpass  these  prelimin- 
aries taking  place  without,  the  management  would 
be  deserving  of  congratulations  upon  a  most  brilliant 
second  act  finale. 

There  would,  however,  in  all  likelihood  be  no 
occasion  for  such  comparison.  For  it  was  to  re- 
strain the  management  from  continuing  the  produc- 
tion of  music  drama  that  the  furious  crowd  had 
gathered  there.  The  opening  performance  the  night 
before  had  been  a  disgrace,  an  insult  to  the  city.  It 
made  them  ashamed  to  be  New  Yorkers.  Their 
civic  pride  cried  out  against  it.  They  must  take 
arms  against  such  a  menace  to  their  fair  name. 
They  must  prevent  a  recurrence  of  such  hideous 
musical  exhibition.  With  Verdun  tenacity  they 
would  resist  the  opening  of  the  doors  of  the  Opera 
House.  Us  ne  chanterons  pas  I 

Grim  determination  was  writ  on  every  counte- 
nance. You  noticed  the  fiery  eye,  the  set  teeth,  the 
drawn  lips,  and,  invisible  but  to  the  mind,  the  pranc- 
ing steed  and  the  couched  lance.  It  really  is  a  sub- 
ject meant  for  the  noblest  poetic  treatment.  It 
meets  in  every  way  Matthew  Arnold's  test  of  high 
seriousness  of  absolute  sincerity.  It  is  truly  epic 
both  as  to  spirit  and  form.  For  here  as  before  the 
walls  of  Troy 

.  .  .  Darts  and  shields  oppos'd 

To   darts   and   shields;   strength    answered   strength;    then 
swords  and  targets  clos'd 

112 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

With  swords  and  targets;  both  with  pikes;  and  then  did 

tumult  rise 
Up  to  her  height;  then  conqueror's  boast  mix'd  with  the 

conquer'd's  cries: 
Earth  flowed  with  blood. 

And  just  as  the  war  in  the  Iliad  is  saved  from 
being  a  colossal  brawl  (in  that  case  over  a  matter 
that  should  have  been  transacted  privately  in  a  court 
for  domestic  relations)  by  Helen's  divinely  good 
looks,  glorifying  the  contending  powers  as  battling 
in  the  cause  of  eternal  beauty;  so  this  encounter  be- 
tween the  police  and  the  populace  is  exalted  from, 
apparently,  a  degrading  row  and  riot  to  a  sublime 
pilgrimage  in  the  cause  of  art,  by  la  femme  qu'il  faut 
chercher  —  "  Eva,  das  schonste  Weib :  Eva  in  Para- 
dies !" 

Further  comparison  might  be  attempted  of  this 
tumultuous  New  York  crusade  to  stop  the  per- 
formance of  Die  Meistersinger  from  being  given, 
with  the  Niirnberg  uprisings  in  the  second  act,  espe- 
cially as  to  the  relative  effectiveness  of  the  police 
departments  of  the  two  cities.  But  more  austere 
criticism  would  perhaps  regard  the  disturbance  as 
symphonic  rather  than  operatic.  It  would  point  out 
the  turbulent  announcement  of  the  angry  protesters, 
ruvidamente,  followed  by  a  tromba  da  lontano  of  a 
bawling,  bustling  top-sergeant;  whereupon  the  per- 
formers proceed  al  rigore  del  tempo  (alia  Tedesca, 
ma  non  troppo).  The  contrasting  second  subject, 
orderly,  Walhalla-like,  is  sounded  timidly,  but  is 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

drowned  out  by  the  steady  rhythm  of  the  first,  cres- 
cendo con  fuoco.  Then  the  orderly  theme  is  again 
heard,  to  a  vigorous  accompaniment  of  nightsticks 
rapping  upon  asphalt  pavement;  it  develops  rinfor- 
zamento,  shuts  out  repeated  renewals  of  the  tur- 
moil, and  rises  to  a  triumphal  close  of  the  first  move- 
ment.—  The  andante  opens  peacefully,  the  night- 
sticks performing  their  metronomic  accompaniment, 
much  as  in  the  Allegretto  of  Beethoven's  Eighth 
Symphony.  An  untimely  cadenza  (life  is  lamentably 
indifferent  to  the  laws  of  composition)  appears  in 
the  form  of  a  "  Carrie  Nation  "  harangue.  Short 
fugue-like  episodes  are  then  brought  in  of  rebellious 
individuals  fleeing  into  areas  with  patrolmen  in  hot 
pursuit.  The  peaceful  air  continues  until  without 
intermission  there  sets  in  a  scherzo  hubbub  of  lively 
altercations  and  flying  missiles,  clubbing,  drum- 
ming, bushwhacking,  al  piacere,  all  rather  diverting, 
though  perhaps  troppo  caricato. —  The  finale  starts 
with  the  kettledrum  crash  of  a  marble  cornice  upon 
the  street  below,  toppled  down  by  an  enthusiast. 
The  orderly  police  theme  comes  galloping  apace 
through  the  ensuing  din.  There  is  much  repetition 
here  of  former  material  —  the  prolixity  and  endless 
padding  that  life  so  deplorably  has  to  have  recourse 
to.  The  performance  dwindles  rallentando,  and 
ends,  not  as  a  good  work  of  art  upon  the  happily- 
ever-after  dominant,  but  through  a  steady  lessening 
of  energy,  in  the  manner  of  a  lugubrious  Tschaikow- 
sky  symphony.  That,  of  course,  would  signify  that 
this  esthetic  crusade,  like  the  religious  ones  a 
114 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

thousand  years  ago,  came  to  naught.  To  be  sure, 
like  those  it  did  not  accomplish  its  immediate 
aim.  Die  Meistersinger  was  performed  again  that 
night.  But  the  religious  expeditions,  though  they 
did  not  liberate  Palestine,  had  far-reaching  effects 
upon  Christianity.  And  though  the  Opera  House 
could  not  be  brought  to  immediate  capitulation,  the 
services  rendered  by  the  besiegers  unto  the  cause  of 
art  was  not,  as  will  be  shown,  without  results. 

Here  a  digression  in  behalf  of  the  incredulous  and 
matter  of  fact  reader  may  be  necessary.  The  news- 
papers the  next  morning,  he  will  remember,  an- 
nounced in  scare  heads  something  about  patriotic 
demonstrations  against  Teutonic  activities;  how 
there  had  been  bitter  denunciations  of  enemy  propa- 
ganda and  pathetic  appeals  to  keep  the  Huns  from 
our  opera  gates  and  vitriolic  resolutions  to  do  away 
with  the  use  of  the  German  language.  Yes,  and  a 
breaking  of  hyphenated  heads,  and  ugly  slashing 
and  trampling  and  stabbing.  But  an  imposition 
upon  his  intelligence  of  such  febrile  matter  the 
reader  will  surely  resent.  He  knows  that  the  news- 
paper by  nature  can  give  but  the  instantaneous  and 
merely  surface  aspects  of  events,  reflecting  in  print 
just  as  little  of  truth  as  does  the  photography  on  the 
moving  picture  screen :  a  presentation  really  of  shad- 
ows, of  unsubstantial  things,  of  inarticulate  jabber 
and  gesticulation.  There  is  a  distressing  haste 
about  such  recording,  a  scurry,  an  apparent  beset- 
ment  with  constant  pursuit.  The  eleven  o'clock 
edition  goes  to  press  in  so  many  minutes;  only  so 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

many  feet  of  film  remain  to  complete  the  reel :  re- 
porter and  photographer  are  to  "  cover  "  within  that 
time  and  space,  say  the  elephant  investigated  by  the 
six  blind  men  of  Indostan.  Equipped  with  note 
book  and  camera  respectively  they  rush  up,  catch 
sight  of  the  ivory  gleam  of  a  ferocious  tusk,  and 
rush  back;  and  the  news  column  and  the  screen  are 
prepared  to  hold,  as  'twere,  the  mirror  up  to  nature. 

Before  the  reader  accepts  the  next-morning  ver- 
sion of  the  proceedings,  he  might  well  stop  and 
consider  whether  it  is  possible  that  the  product  of 
the  rattle  and  whir  of  the  linotyper  and  moving 
picture  operator  can  be  truth.  Is  such  the  loom  in 
which  it  is  woven,  those  threads  of  flimsy  glimpses  its 
woof  and  texture?  To  place  any  belief  in  the  news- 
paper accounts  of  riots  against  German  singers  and 
German  productions  is  to  display  utter  credulity, 
blind  and  un-Platonic,  accepting  as  the  real  the 
merely  accidental  and  apparent,  and  not  the  divine 
purpose  behind  it. 

Upon  more  deliberate  judgment  it  becomes  of 
course  apparent  that  the  cause  of  the  uprising  was 
the  natural  resentment  against  an  attempt  to  foist 
upon  the  public  a  production  from  an  artistic  stand- 
point deplorably  wanting.  The  first  performance 
had  enraged  our  good  citizens  by  its  sheer  Beckmes- 
ser  schrecklichkeit  in  musical  rendition.  They  had 
been  driven  into  frenzy  by  discordant  shatterings 
of  the  dignity  of  New  York  art.  And  accordingly 
they  had  marched  to  the  Opera  House  bent  on  be- 
laboring the  collective  back  of  Herr  Merker. 

116 


Too  much  importance  cannot  be  attached  to  so  sin- 
gular a  disturbance.  Its  immediate  effects  of  tur- 
bulence, crashing  glass,  and  fractured  skulls,  are 
trivial.  But  as  an  indication  of  a  latent  tendency 
of  the  people  of  New  York  it  is  of  the  greatest 
significance.  Beneath  the  froth  and  jazz  and  dazzle 
there  are  certainly  suppressed  desires  —  if  that  well- 
worn  handle  of  an  idea  may  be  used  to  open  up  con- 
siderations other  than  those  of  an  acrobat  drawing 
forth  fantastic  hares  from  an  incorporeal  silk  hat 
and  saying  that  it  all  has  paphian  implication  — 
desires  to  realize  high  artistic  aspirations.  Those 
yearnings  are  naturally  deep  beneath  the  city's  cold 
and  crusty  surface.  But  at  times  their  fiery  sub- 
stance can  break  forth  into  volcanic  fury. —  That 
initial  performance  of  Die  Meistersinger  must  have 
outraged  all  standards  of  musical  production. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  about  this.  For  it  cer- 
tainly cannot  be  denied  that  New  York  is  musically 
a  most  tolerant  city.  It  listens  to  very  wretched 
recitals  and  concerts  and  operas  with  admirable  en- 
durance. It  has  hardly  ever  been  known  to  vent  its 
anger  upon  the  hapless  player  whose  technique  is 
muddy  or  whose  expression  is  banal.  Really,  al- 
most anybody  who  is  desirous  of  exhibiting  his  mu- 
sical attainment,  no  matter  how  feeble,  is  fairly  safe 
from  the  wrath  of  his  victims.  It  is  possible  that 
this  may  be  owing  in  part  to  the  etiquette  of  silence, 
restraining  us  as  it  does  when  we  confront  a  person 
of  crooked  countenance  or  business  habits.  Pity, 
too,  may  be  a  deterrent.  Occasionally  it  is  just 

117 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

dum founded  amazement  over  the  brazenness  of  the 
impostor.  Whatever  the  cause,  the  city's  indulgent 
acceptance  of  performances,  less  musical  than  melan- 
choly, ought  logically  to  have  checked  that  fury 
against  the  wretched  Meistersinger  production. 

That  it  did  not,  should  be  taken  as  a  warning  of 
future  recurrences.  The  solemn  demeanor  of  con- 
cert and  opera  audiences  is  evidently  a  mask,  their 
restraint  a  delusion,  their  perfunctory  applause  a 
snare.  Let  the  presumption  of  the  player  overtax 
their  musical  forbearance  and  the  storm  may  again 
break  forth  with  its  incidental  hail  of  bricks  and 
bottles  and  torrents  of  abuse. —  The  psychoanalyst 
shrugs:  what  can  you  expect?  Suppressed  desires! 
The  only  ones  whose  offended  ears  are  relieved  by 
expression  are  the  music  critics.  Judge  by  the  occa- 
sional virulence  of  their  accounts  the  constant  indig- 
nities endured  by  the  patrons  of  music.  Consider 
the  pressure  resulting  from  habitual  silence,  and  mul- 
tiply to  estimate  the  cumulative  effect  of  long  and 
numerous  seasons.  The  product  is  appalling.  The 
pressure  must  be  relieved.  The  silence  at  bad  per- 
formances must  be  broken.  There  must  be  a  safety 
valve :  the  overcharged  resentment  ought  certainly  to 
escape  as  fiercely  vociferous  hisses. 

What  action  the  Mayor  will  take  to  prevent  fur- 
ther esthetic  rebellion  has  not  yet  been  announced. 
It  is  earnestly  to  be  hoped  that  he  will  appoint  an 
appropriate  committee.  The  serious  post-war  un- 
rest might  become  a  menace  indeed,  if  widespread 
dissatisfaction  began  to  be  felt  with  present  artistic 

118 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

activities.  The  former  easy-going  tolerance  of 
whatever  and  however  an  orchestra  chose  to  play 
exists  no  longer.  The  war  —  witness  the  New 
York  uprising  —  is  making  itself  felt  in  the  sancta 
of  musical  esotery.  Investigation  of  corrupt  prac- 
tices and  of  gross  incompetence  should  proceed  at 
once.  The  sensitive  ears  of  our  public  will  brook 
no  further  delay. 

Fortunately  the  Mayor  has  shown  singular  under- 
standing of  the  issues  involved.  He  arranged  for 
an  immediate  public  hearing,  at  which  the  griev- 
ances against  the  New  Opera  Company  were  ex- 
posed at  length.  The  business  manager  of  the  Com- 
pany sought  to  extenuate  the  offensiveness  of  the 
performance  by  emphasizing  the  members'  arduous 
war  activities,  implying,  probably,  that  disastrous 
effects  upon  their  musicianship  was  inevitable.  The 
Mayor,  whose  enthusiasm  for  art  is  generally  recog- 
nized 1  and  would  be  greatly  admired  but  for  his 
incidental  prolix  disquisitions,  delivered  himself  of 
the  following: 

"  The  old  order  again  changeth,  yielding  place  to 

1  Nothing  in  the  accounts  of  the  hearing  published  the  following 
day  is  so  clearly  indicative  of  newspaper  purblindness  and  deafness 
as  the  Mayor's  alleged  reply  when  asked  if  he  had  attended  the 
opening  performance  of  the  New  Opera  Company:  "  I  never  go  to 
the  opera  unless  I  am  dragged  there.  My  mind  is  too  much  taken 
up  with  the  budget  and  such  things." —  If  the  Mayor  used  these 
words  at  all,  it  should  be  added  that  he  was  carefully  distinguishing 
opera  from  music  drama,  and  employed  hyperbolic  language  to 
show  his  artistic  appreciation  of  the  immeasurable  superiority  of 
the  latter. —  "  The  budget  and  such  things,"  of  inconsequence  and 
mutation,  can  hardly  take  up  the  mind  of  New  York's  chief  magis- 
trate, who  needs  must  be  constant  as  the  northern  star. 

119 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

new.  In  the  dark  ages  a  man's  way  of  worshiping 
his  Creator  was  deemed  of  the  greatest  import  to 
society.  Curious  that  so  misty  a  matter  should  have 
lifted  man  so  high  and  sunk  him  so  deep;  should 
have  inspired  Sistine  Madonnas  and  Spanish  inqui- 
sitions. In  more  enlightened  days,  hardly  less  in- 
credible have  been  the  glory  and  the  horror  of  cen- 
turies of  bloodshed  for  the  conquest  or  defence  of 
mere  territory  —  for  a  plot  of  ground  which  was 
not  tomb  enough  and  continent  to  hide  the  slain." 

The  Mayor  paused  a  moment.  The  audience 
shifted  uneasily:  one  of  his  customary  Hamlet  solilo- 
quies seemed  imminent.  But  he  evidently  overcame 
the  temptation,  for  he  continued: 

"  No,  ladies  and  gentlemen," —  he  took  for 
granted  that  they  bridged  the  leap  of  his  thought  — 
"  no,  this  age  is  not  like  those  transitory.  We  have 
reached  the  ultimate,  now  that  we  have  established 
art  as  the  criterion  of  mankind's  existence.  We  are 
invincible,  for  we  are  no  longer  to  be  estimated  by 
such  standards  as  the  power  of  our  body  or  the 
strength  of  our  belief.  For  our  mighty  structures  in 
granite  and  iron  crumble,  our  bodies  decay,  our  be- 
lief turns  with  weathervane  sensitiveness  to  every 
passing  gust,  right  about  and  left  about.  Er  — 
pardon  that  expression  —  an  anachronism  —  a  bar- 
baric remain  of  an  age  of  military  command,  now 
happily  bygone. 

"  The  disturbance  last  night  at  the  New  Opera 
House  is  really  a  gratifying  proof  of  how  well  pre- 
120 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

pared  is  our  community  for  the  great  era  of  art, 
how  eager  to  carry  on  henceforth  its  lofty  purpose. 
You  cannot  " —  he  turned  to  the  wretched  singers  — 
"  you  cannot  with  impunity  offend  ears  that  are  well 
trained,  vigilant,  merciless  toward  wrong  practices. 
They  are  more  powerful  than  armies  of  policemen 
I  might  send  to  preserve  order.  For  they  admit 
of  no  division  as  did  creeds  and  races,  when  the  falli- 
bility of  each  led  in  the  past  to  such  grotesque  alter- 
nations of  enmity  and  alliance.  And  their  power 
will  not  depend  upon  mere  individuals  or  groups. 
They  are  not  of  an  age  but  for  all  time.  The 
strength  of  religious  martyrs  had  an  element  of  mys- 
tical fanaticism,  too  rarified  or  else  too  hectic  for 
most  people.  The  strength  of  soldiers  in  battle 
could  draw  upon  wider  sources,  perhaps  because 
their  motives  were  more  commensurable,  perhaps 
because  they  were  chained  with  thousands  and  mil- 
lions by  the  wrought  usages  of  an  actual  and  com- 
prehensible world.  There  came,  however,  a  day 
of  calling  a  plague  on  all  the  contending  houses. 
An  unwonted  calm  fell  upon  agonizing  bodies  and 
spirits.  Mankind  found  itself  upon  the  easy  even- 
ness of  an  eternal  plane  of  circumstance.  But  the 
joy  this  gave  was  of  bridal  transience.  The  pros- 
pect became  tamely  level  of  color,  level  of  tone, 
level  of  form.  And  as  a  result  of  the  ensuing 
ennui,  art  was  prescribed  as  a  highly  spoken  of  spe- 
cific—  a  refuge  from  the  endless  petty  ticking  of  a 
clock-directed  world." 

121 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

The  Mayor  drew  his  watch  out.  He  remembered 
that  Bodanzky  was  to  conduct  Brahms  that  evening. 
He  hastened  to  bring  the  hearing  to  a  close. 

"  I  need  not  take  up  all  the  accusations  made 
against  the  New  Opera  Company.  According  to 
the  plaintiffs,  the  people  of  New  York,  there  is 
hardly  a  bar  of  Die  Meistersinger  but  has  been  vio- 
lated. The  initial  grievance  is  representative.  The 
conductor,  I  find  here,  is  charged  with  wrongful 
and  cruel  misconducting  of  the  overture.  Specif- 
ically I  see  that  he  is  accused  of  criminal  ignorance 
of  tempo  rubato,  of  wantonly  and  maliciously  beat- 
ing a  relentless  gymnastic  four  quarter  time  through- 
out, thereby  causing  the  plaintiffs  great  auditory  an- 
noyance, sensuous  discomfort,  and  acute  artistic  suf- 
fering.—  Now  that  is  certainly  unpardonable,"  the 
Mayor  frowned  at  the  offenders,  "  for  the  law  con- 
cerning that  overture  is  most  clearly  formulated, 
and  by  none  other  than  by  Wagner  himself." 

His  Honor  turned  to  the  bookcases  beside  him 
and  drew  out  Wagner's  slender  volume  On  Con- 
ducting. "  Let  me  read  to  you,"  he  said  indig- 
nantly, "  what  the  master  himself  has  written:  '  The 
main  tempo  of  this  piece  is  ...  allegro  maestoso. 
Now,  when  this  kind  of  tempo  continues  through  a 
long  piece,  particularly  if  the  themes  are  treated 
episodically,  it  demands  modification  as  much  as, 
or  even  more  than  any  other  kind  of  tempo.' —  And 
here,  where  he  talks  of  the  introduction  of  the  second 
theme  in  diminution :  '  It  here  exhibits  a  passionate, 
almost  hasty  character  (something  like  a  whispered 

122 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

declaration  of  love).  Not  to  disturb  the  main  char- 
acteristic, delicacy,  it  is  therefore  necessary  slightly 
to  hold  back  the  tempo.' —  And  finally  this :  '  Let 
anyone  imagine  so  animated,  yet  so  sensitive  a  thing 
as  the  tempo  which  governs  this  overture,  let  this 
delicately  constructed  thing  suddenly  be  forced  into 
the  Procrustus-bed  of  a  classical  time  beater,  what 
will  become  of  it?  The  doom  is:  Herein  shalt 
thou  lie,  whatsoever  is  too  long  with  thee  shall  be 
chopped  off,  and  whatsoever  is  too  short  shall  be 
stretched !  —  Whereupon  the  band  strikes  up  and 
overpowers  the  cries  of  the  victim.' 

"And  what's  more,"  the  Mayor  went  on,  "  the 
overcoming  of  the  hapless  victim  I  find  was  abom- 
inably noisy.  The  severest  charges  have  been  made 
against  your  instrumentation.  Mr.  Krehbiel,  the 
Commissioner  of  Music,  has  suggested  to  me  as  a 
precautionary  measure  the  issuing  of  an  injunction 
against  an  orchestra,  '  whose  brass  contingent,'  he 
said,  '  seemed  to  be  trying  to  blow  blood  out  of  its 
eyes,  and  certainly  spread  more  terror  in  the 
prelude  to  Die  Meistersinger  among  the  lovers  of 
Wagner's  music  than  did  the  shells  of  Big  Berthas 
among  the  citizens  of  Paris  a  year  and  a  half  ago.' 
—  Ah,  gentlemen!" — the  Mayor's  indignation 
flared  up  — "  the  age  of  Big  Berthas  is  one  with 
Nineveh  and  Tyre.  We  shall  not,  no,  we  decidedly 
shall  not  need  to  seek  sandbag  protection  against 
such  brassy  assaults  as  those  performed  that  night. 
In  the  name  of  Apollo,  my  good  man," —  His  Honor 
strove  to  check  his  rage  — "  can't  you  understand 

123 


how  that  overture  must  sound?  That  opening 
should  have  been  broad,  pompous,  yes,  but  posato 
—  so  — "  And  His  Honor  proceeded  to  demonstrate 
by  whistling  and  humming  and  ta-ta-taing,  at  the 
same  time  energetically  conducting  his  orchestral 
self  with  his  gavel. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  record  in  detail  the 
Mayor's  rendition  of  the  whole  overture,  nor  of  the 
illuminating  though  at  times  plethoric  comments  he 
interspersed.  They  were,  on  the  whole,  worthy  of 
the  chief  magistrate  of  the  most  musical  of  cities. 
There  are  naturally  many  who  will  disagree  with 
his  interpretation  in  a  number  of  respects.  That  is 
to  be  expected  in  a  democracy.  There  de  gustibus 
est  disputandum.  Whether  the  Mayor's  musical 
policy  is  acceptable  to  the  majority  will  of  course 
be  made  known  at  the  next  mayoral  election. 

When  His  Honor  had  gone  through  the  entire 
overture  (his  heels  making  the  floor  reverberate  at 
the  close  as  with  the  steps  of  Titan  meisters),  the 
lawyer  for  the  New  Opera  Company  arose.  A  hush 
fell  upon  the  assembly,  for  everyone  recognized  the 
brilliant  defender  of  many  notorious  criminal  cases. 
His  presence  there  was  conclusive  proof  of  the  Com- 
pany's plight.  He  was  recognized  as  the  estab- 
lished alternative  to  a  plea  of  guilty,  a  sort  of  bar- 
rister Life-in-Death  on  a  legal  specter  ship.  That 
the  game  of  chance  he  played  turned  out  a  losing 
one  and  left  the  pitiful  opera  crew  with  the  grim 
mate  of  the  shroud  and  scythe,  cast  no  discredit  upon 
the  effectiveness  of  his  plea.  In  that  penetrating 

124 


THE  MONSTER  SINGERS  OF  NEW  YORK 

way  of  his  he  deprecated  the  directions  His  Honor 
had  read  as  to  the  tempo,  calling  them  a  trumpery 
dodge  in  which  Wagner,  utterly  unscrupulous  in  his 
vanity,  had  tried  to  account  for  an  audience's  un- 
favorable reception  of  the  overture  by  blaming 
Capellmeister  Reinecke  of  "  beating  the  stiffest 
square  time  from  beginning  to  end,"  instead  of 
following  his  post  facto  suggestions.  The  famous 
attorney  then  proceeded  to  defend  what  Wagner 
had  sneered  at  as  "  classical  "  time  beating.  He 
cited  the  case  of  Mahler,  whose  reading  of  Bee- 
thoven a  decade  ago  here  in  New  York  had  caused 
a  riot,  necessitating  a  calling  out  of  the  reserves. 
He  referred  to  lesser  men  who  had  sought  to  pit 
their  preciosity  against  the  Olympian  tenor  of  the 
works  of  the  masters,  and  had  been  swept  into  ob- 
livion. And,  finally,  he  analyzed  the  performance 
of  each  of  the  accused  singers,  referring  to  their 
ineptitude  as  modest  reluctance  to  give  their  parts 
added  effects,  proclaiming  their  tick-tack  tempo  artis- 
tic scrupulousness,  and  their  wooden  timbre  the 
noblest  of  vocal  immolation.  The  solemnity  with 
which  such  stuff  was  received  is  no  mean  tribute  to 
the  lawyer's  power,  and  explains  in  a  way  how  so 
many  criminals,  guilty  of  music-slaughter  in  the  first 
degree,  have  escaped  capital  penalty.  By  the  time 
he  had  reached  his  peroration  and  was  holding  forth 
on  "  How  impossible  it  is,  gentlemen,  for  the  inter- 
preter to  soar  beyond  the  vision  of  the  creator! 
He  is  the  instrument  only,  whose  perfection  is  accu- 
rate and  complete  response  to  the  composer.  In- 

125 


THE  PERTINENT  WAGNERITE 

terpretation  has  in  the  past  been  added  to  inter- 
pretation, Pelion  on  Ossa,  in  futile  quest  to  attain 
heights  celestial.  The  structures  are  flung  down  by 
the  true  artist,  and  lo!  there  stands  Parnassus!" 
etc. —  by  that  time  some  of  them  were  prepared  to 
embrace  a  newer  art,  and  to  regard  every  one  of 
the  offending  singers  as  a  musical  Rossetti  or  Paul 
Cezanne. 

Yes,  some  of  them,  apostates  by  nature.  But  the 
large  majority,  representative  of  the  metropolitan 
millions,  showed  stronger  esthetic  faith.  They  re- 
mained firm  pillars  of  the  great  temple  of  beauty 
that  is  their  city.  They  were  not  to  be  shaken  by 
opinions  merely  because  these  came  from  some  spec- 
tacular person.  They  were  not  to  be  imposed  upon 
by  bad  art  or  giddy  fashions  that  change  with  the 
seasons  .  .  . 

Thus  (with  frequent  glances  at  his  watch  and  mut- 
terings  of  "  Bodanzky  —  and  the  E  Minor  Sym- 
phony at  that  ")  thus  the  Mayor  to  the  Opera  Com- 
pany in  concluding  the  hearing:  "  And,  finally,  you 
cannot,  I  am  proud  to  say,  impose  upon  a  people 
guided  by  the  highest  laws  of  beauty,  mere  will-o'- 
the-wisp  and  tinsel  glitter.  Neither  can  you  by  nam- 
ing a  production  exotic  make  it  acceptable.  The 
throne  of  our  art,  like  that  which  Milton  conjured  up, 
far  outshines  the  wealth  of  Ormus  and  of  Ind,  and 
so  we  refuse  to  kneel  elsewhere.  You  cannot  with  a 
smear  on  canvas  or  keyboard  make  us  clap  hands  and 
stand  back  at  the  right  distance  and  cry  '  How  orig* 
inal !  '  And  so  your  attorney's  plea  of  your  having 

126 


done  nothing  worse  than  transcend  musical  tradi- 
tion cannot  be  accepted.  What  you  have  done  is  to 
repudiate  that  tradition.  Your  performance,  there- 
fore, was  utterly  lawless.  It  was  a  demolishing  of 
the  world  of  art  and  a  return  to  the  waste  and 
void  of  nature  before  the  spirit  of  the  artist  moved 
upon  the  face  of  it;  and  it  is  in  our  eyes  as  heinous 
as.  would  be  a  demolishing  of  the  world  of  nature 
and  a  return  to  the  primal  darkness  that  was  upon 
the  face  of  the  deep.  That  may  not  be.  Our 
people,  fostered  in  the  noble  tradition  of  their  art, 
are  prepared  to  defend  their  heritage  to  the  last. 
Their  attack  upon  you  last  night  bears  ardent  tes- 
timony to  this.  They  will  under  no  circumstances 
tolerate  your  discord  and  disruption;  they  have  set 
themselves  heart  and  soul  against  your  attempted 
anarchy.  And  as  their  chief  magistrate  I  am  proud 
to  voice  their  verdict: 

"  They  find  you  guilty!  " 


127 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles  JAN 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


A    000792935    9 


1921 


